£ 


THE  SILENT  BATTLE 


The  table  rang  from  end  to  end  with  joke  and  laughter. 

[Page  203.] 


THE 
SILENT   BATTLE 


BY 

GEORGE  GIBBS 

AUTHOR  OF 

THE  BOLTED  DOOR, 

THE  FORBIDDEN  WAY.  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW      Y  O  RJK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1913.  BY 
D.   APPLETON   AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1912, 1913.  by  the  Pictorial  Review  Cowpanv 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 

'HAPTER  PAGE 

I.  LOST         .  1 

II.  BABES  IN  THE  WOODS  .       .       .       .       .       .       .11 

III.  VOICES 22 

IV.  EDEN S3 

V.  WOMAN  AND  MAX 46 

VI.  THE   SHADOW 60 

VII.  ALLEGRO 73 

VIII.  CHICOT,  THE  JESTER .84 

IX.  THE  LORINGS 95 

X.  MR.  VAN  DUYN  RIDES  FORTH        ....  109 

XI.  THK  CEDARCROFT  SET 122 

XII.  NELLIE  PENNINGTON  CUTS  IN      ....  136 
XIII.  MRS.  PENNINGTON'S  BROUGHAM    ....  151 

XIV.  THE  JUNIOR  MEMBER 166 

XV.  DISCOVERED 177 

XVI.  BEHIND  THE  ENEMY'S  BACK          «       .       .          190 

XVII.  "THK  POT  AND  KETTLE" 200 

XVIII.  THE  ENEMY  AND  A  FRIEND  .       .       .          212 

XIX.  LOTS  ON  CRUTCHES 225 

XX.  THB    INTRUDER    .  .  236 


2135753 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  TEMPTATION 247 

XXII.  SMOKE  AND  FIRE 261 

XXIII.  THE  MOUSE  AND  THE  LION 273 

XXIV.  DIAMOND  CUT  DIAMOND 285 

XXV.  DEEP  WATER 297 

XXVI.  BIG  BUSINESS 310 

XXVII.  MR.  LORING  REFLECTS      ......  323 

XXVIII.  THE  LODESTAR 338 

XXIX.  ARCADIA  AGAIN  ,       .       ,       e  .  350 


VI 


THE  SILENT  BATTLE 


THE  SILENT  BATTLE 


LOST 

GALLATIN  wearily  lowered  the  creel  from  his  shoul- 
ders and  dropped  it  by  his  rod  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree.     He  knew  that  he  was  lost — had  known  it,  in 
fact,  for  an  hour  or  more,  but  with  the  certainty  that 
there  was  no  way  out  until  morning,  perhaps  not  even 
then,   came    a   feeling   of   relief,   and  with   the   creel,   he 
dropped  the  mental  burden  which  for  the  last  hour  had 
been  plaguing  him,  first  with  fear  and  then  more  recently 
with  a  kind  of  ironical  amusement. 

What  did  it  matter,  after  all?  He  realized  that  for 
twenty-eight  years  he  had  made  a  mess  of  most  of  the 
things  he  had  attempted,  and  that  if  he  ever  got  back 
to  civilization,  he  would  probably  go  diligently  on  in  the 
way  he  had  begun.  There  was  time  enough  to  think  about 
that  to-morrow.  At  present  he  was  so  tired  that  all  he 
wanted  was  a  place  to  throw  his  weary  limbs.  He  had 
penetrated  miles  into  the  wilderness,  he  knew,  but  in  what 
direction  the  nearest  settlement  lay  he  hadn't  the  vaguest 
notion — to  the  southward  probably,  since  his  guide  had 
borne  him  steadily  northward  for  more  than  two  weeks. 
That  blessed  guide!  With  the  omniscience  of  the  in- 
experienced, Gallatin  had  left  Joe  Keegon  alone  at  camp 
after  breakfast,  with  a  general  and  hazy  notion  of  whip- 

1 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


ping  unfished  trout  pools.  He  had  disregarded  his  men- 
tor's warning  to  keep  his  eye  on  the  sun  and  bear  to 
his  left  hand,  and  in  the  joy  of  the  game,  had  lost  all  sense 
of  time  and  direction.  He  realized  now  from  his  aching 
legs  that  he  had  walked  many  miles  farther  than  he  had 
wanted  to  walk,  and  that,  at  the  last,  the  fish  in  his  creel 
had  grown  perceptibly  heavier.  The  six  weeks  at  Mul- 
ready's  had  hardened  him  for  the  work,  but  never,  even 
at  White  Meadows,  had  his  muscles  ached  as  they  did  now. 
He  was  hungry,  too,  ravenously  hungry,  and  a  breeze 
which  roamed  beneath  the  pines  advised  him  that  it  was 
time  to  make  a  fire. 

It  was  a  wonderful  hunger  that  he  had,  a  healthful, 
beastlike  hunger — not  the  gnawing  fever,  for  that  seemed 
to  have  left  him,  but  a  craving  for  Joe's  biscuits  and 
bacon  (at  which  he  had  at  first  turned  up  his  pampered 
aristocratic  nose),  which  now  almost  amounted  to  an  ob- 
session. Good  old  Joe!  Gallatin  remembered  how,  dur- 
ing the  first  week  of  their  pilgrimage,  he  had  lain  like 
the  sluggard  that  he  was,  against  the  bole  of  a  tree,  weary 
of  the  ache  within  and  rebellious  against  the  conditions 
which  had  sent  him  forth,  cursing  in  his  heart  at  the  old 
Indian  for  his  taciturnity,  while  he  watched  the  skillful 
brown  fingers  moving  unceasingly  at  the  evening  task. 
Later  he  had  begun  to  learn  with  delight  of  his  own  grow- 
ing capabilities,  and  as  the  habit  of  analysis  fell  upon  him, 
to  understand  the  dignity  of  the  vast  silences  of  which 
the  man  was  a  part. 

Not  that  Gallatin  himself  was  undignified  in  the  world- 
ly way,  for  he  had  lived  as  his  father  and  his  father's 
fathers  before  him  had  lived,  deeply  imbued  with  the 
traditions  of  his  class,  which  meant  large  virtues,  civic 
pride,  high  business  integrity,  social  punctilio,  and  the 
only  gentlemanly  vice  the  Gallatin  blood  had  ever  been 

2 


^ LOST 

heir  to.  But  a  new  idea  of  nobility  had  come  to  him  in 
the  woods,  a  new  idea  of  life  itself,  which  his  conquest 
of  his  own  energy  had  made  possible.  The  deep  aisles 
of  the  woods  had  spoken  the  message,  the  spell  of  the 
silent  places,  the  mystery  of  the  eternal  which  hung  on 
every  lichened  rock,  which  sang  in  every  wind  that  swayed 
the  boughs  above. 

Heigho!  This  was  no  time  for  moralizing.  There 
was  a  fire  to  light,  a  shelter  of  some  sort  to  build  and 
a  bed  to  make.  Gallatin  got  up  wearily,  stretching  his 
tired  muscles  and  cast  about  in  search  of  a  spot  for  his 
camp.  He  found  two  young  trees  on  a  high  piece  of 
ground  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  stream,  which  would 
serve  as  supports  for  a  roof  of  boughs,  and  was  in  the 
act  of  gathering  the  wood  for  his  fire,  when  he  caught  the 
crackling  of  a  dry  twig  in  the  bushes  at  some  distance 
away.  Three  weeks  ago,  perhaps,  he  would  not  have 
heard  or  noticed,  but  his  ear,  now  trained  to  the  accus- 
tomed sounds,  gave  warning  that  a  living  thing,  a  deer 
or  a  black  bear,  perhaps,  was  moving  in  the  undergrowth. 
He  put  his  armful  of  wood  down  and  hid  himself  behind 
a  tree,  drawing  meanwhile  an  automatic,  the  only  weapon 
he  possessed,  from  his  hip  pocket.  He  had  enough  of 
woodcraft  to  know  that  no  beast  of  the  woods,  unless 
in  full  flight,  would  come  down  against  the  wind  toward  a 
human  being,  making1  such  a  racket  as  this.  The  crack- 
ling grew  louder  and  the  rapid  swish  of  feet  in  the  dry 
leaves  was  plainly  audible.  His  eye  now  caught  the 
movement  of  branches  and  in  a  moment  he  made  out 
the  dim  bulk  of  a  figure  moving  directly  toward  him. 
He  had  even  raised  the  hand  which  held  his  Colt  and 
was  in  the  act  of  aiming  it  when  from  the  shelter  of  the 
moose-wood  there  emerged — a  girl. 

She  wore  a  blue  flannel  blouse,  a  short  skirt  and  long 

3 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


leather  gaiters  and  over  one  hip  hung  a  creel  like  his  own. 
Her  dress  was  smart  and  sportsmanlike,  but  her  hat  was 
gone ;  her  hair  had  burst  its  confines  and  hung  in  a  pitiful 
confusion  about  her  shoulders.  She  suggested  to  him 
the  thought  of  Syrinx  pursued  by  the  satyrs;  for  her 
cheeks  were  flushed  with  the  speed  of  her  flight  and  her 
eyes  were  wide  with  fear. 

Comely  and  frightened  Dryads  who  order  their  clothes 
from  Fifth  Avenue,  are  not  found  every  day  in  the  heart 
of  the  Canadian  wilderness;  and  Gallatin  half  expected 
that  if  he  stepped  forward  like  Pan  to  test  her  tangibility, 
she  would  vanish  into  empty  air.  Indeed  such  a  meta- 
morphosis was  about  to  take  place;  for  as  he  emerged 
from  behind  his  tree,  the  girl  turned  one  terrified  look  in 
his  direction  and  disappeared  in  the  bushes. 

For  a  brief  moment  Gallatin  paused.  He  had  had 
visions  before,  and  the  thought  came  into  his  mind  that 
this  was  one  like  the  others,  born  of  his  overtaxed 
strength  and  the  rigors  of  the  day.  But  as  he  gazed 
at  the  spot  where  the  Dryad  had  stood,  branches  of  young 
trees  swayed,  showing  the  direction  in  v/hich  she  was 
passing  and  the  sounds  in  the  crackling  underbrush,  ever 
diminishing,  assured  him  that  the  sudden  apparition  was 
no  vision  at  all,  but  very  delectable  flesh  and  blood,  fleeing 
from  him  in  terror.  He  remembered,  then,  a  tale  that 
Joe  Keegon  had  told  him  of  a  tenderfoot,  who  when  lost 
in  the  woods  was  stricken  suddenly  mad  with  fear  and, 
ended  like  a  frightened  animal  running  away  from  the 
guides  that  had  been  sent  for  him.  Fear  had  not  come 
to  Gallatin  yet.  He  had  acknowledged  bewilderment  and 
a  vague  sense  of  the  monstrous  vastness  of  the  thing  he 
had  chosen  for  his  summer  plaything.  He  had  been 
surprised  when  the  streams  began  running  up  hill  instead 
of  down,  and  when  the  sun  appeared  suddenly  in  a  new 

4 


LOST      

quarter  of  the  heavens,  but  he  had  not  been  frightened. 
He  was  too  indifferent  for  that.  But  he  knew  from  the 
one  brief  look  he  had  had  of  the  eyes  of  the  girl,  that 
the  forest  had  mastered  her,  and  that,  like  the  fellow  in 
Joe's  tale,  she  had  stampeded  in  fright. 

Hurriedly  locking  his  Colt,  Gallatin  plunged  headlong 
into  the  bushes  where  the  girl  had  disappeared.  For  a 
moment  he  thought  he  had  lost  her,  for  the  tangle  of 
underbrush  was  thick  and  the  going  rough,  but  in  a  rift 
in  the  bushes  he  saw  the  dark  blouse  again  and  went  for- 
ward eagerly.  He  lost  it,  found  it  again  and  then  sud- 
denly saw  it  no  more.  He  stopped  and  leaned  against  a 
tree  listening.  There  were  no  sounds  but  the  murmur  of 
the  rising  wind  and  the  note  of  a  bird.  He  climbed  over 
a  fallen  log  and  went  on  toward  the  slope  where  he  had 
last  seen  her,  stopping,  listening,  his  eyes  peering  from 
one  side  to  the  other.  He  knew  that  she  could  not  be  far 
away,  for  ahead  of  him  the  brush  was  thinner,  and  the 
young  trees  offered  little  cover.  A  tiny  gorge,  rock 
strewn,  but  half  filled  with  leaves,  lay  before  him,  and 
it  was  not  until  he  had  stumbled  halfway  across  it  that 
he  saw  her,  lying  face  downward,  her  head  in  her  hands, 
trembling  and  dumb  with  fear. 

From  the  position  in  which  she  lay  he  saw  that  she 
had  caught  her  foot  in  a  hidden  root  and,  in  her  mad 
haste  to  escape  she  knew  not  what,  had  fallen  headlong. 
She  did  not  move  as  he  approached;  but  as  he  bent  over 
her  about  to  speak,  she  shuddered  and  bent  her  head  more 
deeply  in  her  arms,  as  though  in  expectation  of  a  blow. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  hurt  you,"  he  said  softly. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  trembled  again,  but  he 
leaned  over  and  touched  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"  I'm  very  sorry  I  frightened  you,"  he  said  again. 
And  then  after  a  moment,  "  Have  you  lost  your  way?  " 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


She  painfully  freed  one  arm,  and  looked  up;  then 
quickly  buried  her  head  again  in  her  hands,  her  shoulders 
heaving  convulsively,  her  slender  body  racked  by  childish 
sobs. 

Gallatin  straightened  in  some  confusion.  He  had 
never,  to  his  knowledge,  been  considered  a  bugaboo  among 
the  women  of  his  acquaintance.  But,  as  he  rubbed  his 
chin  pensively,  he  remembered  that  it  was  a  week  or  more 
since  he  had  had  a  shave,  and  that  a  stiff  dark  stubble 
discolored  his  chin.  His  brown  slouch  hat  was  broken  and 
dirty,  his  blue  flannel  shirt  from  contact  with  the  briers 
was  tattered  and  worn,  and  he  realized  that  he  was  hardly 
an  object  to  inspire  confidence  in  the  heart  of  a  frightened 
girl.  So,  with  a  discretion  which  did  credit  to  his  knowl- 
edge of  her  sex,  he  sat  down  on  a  near-by  rock  and  waited 
for  the  storm  to  pass. 

His  patience  was  rewarded,  for  in  a  little  while  her 
sobs  were  spent,  and  she  raised  her  head  and  glanced  at 
him.  This  time  his  appearance  reassured  her,  for  Galla- 
tin had  taken  off  his  hat,  and  his  eyes,  no  longer  darkly 
mysterious  in  shadow,  were  looking  at  her  very  kindly. 

"  I  want  to  try  and  help  you,  if  I  can,"  he  was  saying 
gently.  "  I'm  about  to  make  a  camp  over  here,  and  if 
you'll  join  me " 

Something  in  the  tones  of  his  voice  and  in  his  manner 
of  expressing  himself,  caused  her  to  sit  suddenly  up  and 
examine  him  more  minutely.  When  she  had  done  so, 
her  hands  made  two  graceful  gestures — one  toward  her 
disarranged  hair  and  the  other  toward  her  disarranged 
skirt.  Gallatin  would  have  laughed  at  this  instinctive 
manifestation  of  the  eternal  feminine,  which  even  in  direst 
woe  could  not  altogether  be  forgotten,  but  instead  he  only 
smiled,  for  after  all  she  looked  so  childishly  forlorn  and 
unhappy. 

6 


LOST 

"  I'm  not  really  going  to  eat  you,  you  know,"  he  said 
again,  smiling. 

"  I — I'm  glad,"  she  stammered  with  a  queer  little 
smile.  "  I  didn't  know  what  you  were.  I'm  afraid  I — 
I've  been  very  much  frightened." 

"  You  were  lost,  weren't  you?  " 

"  Yes."  She  struggled  to  her  knees  and  then  sank 
back  again. 

"  Well,  there's  really  nothing  to  be  frightened  about. 
It's  almost  too  late  to  try  to  find  your  friends  to-night, 
but  if  you'll  come  with  me  I'll  do  my  best  to  make  you 
comfortable." 

He  had  risen  and  offered  her  his  hand,  but  when  she 
tried  to  rise  she  winced  with  pain. 

"  I— I'm  afraid  I  can't,"  she  said.  "  I  think  I— I've 
twisted  my  ankle." 

"  Oh,  that's  awkward,"  in  concern.  "  Does  it  hurt 
you  very  much?  " 

"  I — I  think  it  does.  I  can't  seem  to  use  it  at  all." 
She  moved  her  foot  and  her  face  grew  white  with  the  pain 
of  it. 

Gallatin  looked  around  him  vaguely,  as  though  in  ex- 
pectation that  Joe  Keegon  or  somebody  else  might 
miraculously  appear  to  help  him,  and  then  for  the  first 
time  since  he  had  seen  her,  was  alive  again  to  the  rigors 
of  his  own  predicament. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  he  stammered  helplessly* 
"  Don't  you  think  you  can  stand  on  it  ?  " 

He  offered  her  his  hand  and  shoulder  and  she  bravely 
tried  to  rise,  but  the  effort  cost  her  pain  and  with  a 
little  cry  she  sank  back  in  the  leaves,  her  face  buried  in 
her  arms.  She  seemed  so  small,  so  helpless  that  his  heart 
was  filled  with  a  very  genuine  pity.  She  was  not  crying 
now,  but  the  hand  which  held  her  moist  handkerchief  was 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


so  tightly  clenched  that  her  knuckles  were  outlined  in 
white  against  the  tan.  He  watched  her  a  moment  in 
silence,  his  mind  working  rapidly. 

"  Come,"  he  said  at  last  in  quick  cheerful  notes  of 
decision.  "  This  won't  do  at  all.  We've  got  to  get 
out  of  here.  You  must  take  that  shoe  off.  Then  we'll 
get  you  over  yonder  and  you  can  bathe  it  in  the  stream. 
Try  and  get  your  gaiter  off,  too,  won't  you  ?  " 

His  peremptory  accents  startled  her  a  little,  but  she 
sat  up  obediently  while  he  supported  her  shoulders,  and 
wincing  again  as  she  moved,  at  last  undid  her  legging. 
Gallatin  then  drew  his  hasp-knife  and  carefully  slit  the 
laces  of  her  shoe  from  top  to  bottom,  succeeding  in  getting 
it  safely  off. 

"  Your  ankle  is  swelling,"  he  said.  "  You  must  bathe 
it  at  once." 

She  looked  around  helplessly. 

"Where?" 

"  At  the  stream.     I'm  going  to  carry  you  there." 

"  You  couldn't.     Is  it  far?" 

"  No.     Only  a  hundred  yards  or  so.     Come  along." 

He  bent  over  to  silence  her  protests  and  lifted  her  by 
the  armpits.  Then  while  she  supported  herself  for  a  mo- 
ment upright,  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  made  his  way  up 
the  slope. 

Marvelous  is  the  recuperative  power  of  the  muscular 
system!  Ten  minutes  ago  Gallatin  had  been,  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  of  practical  utility,  at  the  point  of 
exhaustion.  Now,  without  heart-breaking  effort,  he  found 
it  possible  to  carry  a  burden  of  one  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds  a  considerable  distance  through  rough  timber 
without  mishap!  His  muscles  ached  no  more  than  they 
had  done  before,  and  the  only  thing  he  could  think  of  just 

8 


LOST 

then  was  that  she  was  absurdly  slender  to  weigh  so  much. 
One  of  her  arms  encircled  his  shoulders  and  the  fingers 
of  one  small  brown  hand  clutched  tightly  at  the  collar  of 
his  shirt.  Her  eyes  peered  before  her  into  the  brush, 
and  her  face  was  almost  hidden  by  the  tangled  mass  of 
her  hair.  But  into  the  pale  cheek  which  was  just  visible, 
a  gentle  color  was  rising  which  matched  the  rosy  glow 
that  was  spreading  over  the  heavens. 

"  I'm  afraid  I — I'm  awfully  heavy,"  she  said,  as  he 
made  his  way  around  the  fallen  giant  over  which  a  short 
while  ago  they  had  both  clambered.  "  Don't  you  think  I 
had  better  get  down  for  a  moment?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  panted.  "  Not  at  all.  It — it  isn't  far 
now.  I'm  afraid  you'd  hurt  your  foot.  Does  it — does  it 
pain  you  so  much  now?  " 

"  N-o,  I  think  not,"  she  murmured  bravely.  "  But 
I'm  afraid  you're  dreadfully  tired." 

"  N-not  at  all,"  he  stammered.  "  We'll  be  there  soon 
now." 

When  he  came  to  the  spot  he  had  marked  for  his 
camp,  he  bore  to  the  right  and  in  a  moment  they  had 
reached  the  stream  which  gushed  musically  among  the 
boulders,  half  hidden  in  the  underbrush.  It  was  not  until 
he  had  carefully  chosen  a  place  for  her  that  he  consented 
to  put  her  on  the  ground.  Then  with  a  knee  on  the  bank 
and  a  foot  in  the  stream,  he  lowered  her  gently  to  a  mossy 
bank  within  reach  of  the  water. 

"  You're  very  kind,"  she  whispered,  her  cheeks  flam- 
ing as  she  looked  up  at  him.  "  I'm  awfully  sorry." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  he  laughed.  "  I'd  have  let 
you  carry  me — if  you  could."  And  then,  with  the  hurried 
air  of  a  man  who  has  much  to  do :  "  You  take  off  your 
stocking  and  dangle  your  foot  in  the  water.  Wiggle 

9 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


your  toes  if  you  can  and  then  try  to  rub  the  blood  into 
your  ankle.  I'm  going  to  build  a  fire  and  cook  some  fish. 
Are  you  hungry?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I— I  think  I  am." 

"  Good !  "  he  said  smiling  pleasantly.  "  We'll  have 
supper  in  a  minute." 

He  was  turning  to  go,  when  she  questioned :  "  You 
spoke  of  a  camp.  Is — is  it  near  here?  " 

"  N-o.     It  isn't,"  he  hesitated,  "  but  it  soon  will  be." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand." 

He  laughed.  "  Well,  you  see,  the  fact  of  the  matter 
is,  I'm  lost,  too.  I  don't  think  it's  anything  to  be  very 
much  frightened  about,  though.  I  left  my  guide  early 
this  morning  at  the  fork  of  two  streams  a  pretty  long  dis- 
tance from  here.  I've  been  walking  hard  all  day.  I 
fished  up  one  of  the  streams  for  half  of  the  day  and 
then  cut  across  through  the  forest  where  I  thought  I 
would  find  it  again.  I  found  a  stream  but  it  seems 
it  wasn't  the  same  one,  for  after  I  had  gone  down  it  for 
an  hour  or  so  I  didn't  seem  to  get  anywhere.  Then  I 
plunged  around  hunting  and  at  last  had  to  give  it  up." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  could  find  it  again?  " 

"Oh,  I  think  so,"  confidently.  "But  not  to-night. 
I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  put  up  with  what  I  can  offer 
you." 

"  Of  course — and  I'm  very  grateful — but  I'm  sorry  to 
be  such  a  burden  to  you." 

"  Oh,  that's  nonsense."  He  turned  away  abruptly 
and  made  his  way  up  the  bank.  "  I'm  right  here  in  the 
trees  and  I  can  hear  you.  So  if  I  can  help  you  I  want 
you  to  call." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  will." 


10 


II 

BABES   IN   THE   WOODS 

GALLATIN'S  responsibilities  to  his  Creator  had 
been  multiplied  by  two. 
Less  than  an  hour  ago  he  had  dropped  his 
rod  and  creel  more  than  half  convinced  that  it  didn't 
matter  to  him  or  to  anybody  else  whether  he  got  back 
to  Joe  Keegon  or  not.  Now,  he  suddenly  found  himself 
hustling  busily  in  the  underbrush,  newly  alive  to  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  occasion,  surprised  even  at  the  fact  that 
he  could  take  so  extraordinary  an  interest  in  the  mere 
building  of  a  fire.  Back  and  forth  from  the  glade  to  the 
deep  woods  he  hurried,  bringing  dry  leaves,  twigs,  and 
timber.  These  he  piled  against  a  fallen  tree  in  the  lee 
of  the  spot  he  had  chosen  for  his  shelter  and  in  a  moment 
a  fire  was  going.  Many  things  bothered  him.  He  had  no 
axe  and  the  blade  of  his  hasp-knife  was  hardly  suited  to 
the  task  he  found  before  him.  If  his  hands  were  not  so 
tender  as  they  had  been  a  month  ago,  and  if  into  his 
faculties  a  glimmering  of  woodcraft  had  found  its  way, 
the  fact  remained  that  this  blade,  his  Colt,  fishing-rod 
and  his  wits  (such  as  they  were),  were  all  that  he  pos- 
sessed in  the  uneven  match  against  the  forces  of  Nature. 
Something  of  the  calm  ruthlessness  of  the  mighty  wilder- 
ness came  to  him  at  this  moment.  The  immutable  trees 
rose  before  him  as  symbols  of  a  merciless  creed  which  all 
the  forces  around  him  uttered  with  the  terrible  eloquence 
of  silence.  He  was  an  intruder  from  an  alien  land,  of 
no  importance  in  the  changeless  scheme  of  things — less 

11 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


important  than  the  squirrel  which  peeped  at  him  slyly 
from  the  branch  above  his  head  or  the  chickadee  which 
piped  flutelike  in  the  thicket.  The  playfellow  of  his 
strange  summer  had  become  his  enemy,  only  jocular  and 
ironical  as  yet,  but  still  an  enemy,  with  which  he  must 
do  battle  with  what  weapons  he  could  find. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  been  placed 
in  a  position  of  complete  dependence  upon  his  own  efforts 
— the  first  time  another  had  been  dependent  on  him. 
He  and  Joe  had  traveled  light;  for  this,  he  had  learned, 
was  the  way  to  play  the  game  fairly.  Nevertheless,  he 
had  a  guilty  feeling  that  until  the  present  moment  he  had 
modified  his  city  methods  only  so  far  as  was  necessary 
to  suit  the  conditions  the  man  of  the  wilderness  had  im- 
posed upon  him  and  that  Joe,  after  all,  had  done  the 
work.  He  realized  now  that  he  was  fronting  primeval 
forces  with  a  naked  soul — as  naked  and  almost  as  helpless 
as  on  the  day  when  he  had  been  born.  It  seemed  that  the 
capital  of  his  manhood  was  now  for  the  first  time  to  be 
drawn  upon  in  a  hazardous  venture,  the  outcome  of 
which  was  to  depend  upon  his  own  ingenuity  and  resource- 
fulness alone. 

And  yet  the  fire  was  sparkling  merrily. 

He  eyed  the  blade  in  his  hand  as  he  finished  making 
two  roof  supports  and  sighed  for  Joe  Keegon's  little  axe. 
His  hands  were  red  and  blistered  already  and  the  lean-to 
only  begun.  There  were  still  the  boughs  and  birchbark 
for  a  roof  and  the  cedar  twigs  for  a  bed  to  be  cut.  He 
worked  steadily,  but  it  was  an  hour  before  he  found  time 
to  go  down  to  the  stream  to  see  how  his  fugitive  fared.  She 
was  still  sitting  as  he  had  left  her,  on  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  gazing  into  the  depths  of  the  pool. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on?  "  he  asked. 

"I — I'm  all  right,"  she  murmured. 


BABES   IN   THE    WOODS 

"Is  the  ankle  any  better?  I  think  I'd  better  be 
getting  you  up  to  the  fire  now.  Perhaps,  you'd  be  willing 
to  cook  the  fish  while  I  hustle  for  twigs." 

"Of — of  course." 

He  noticed  the  catch  in  her  voice,  and  when  he  came 
near  her  discovered  that  she  was  trembling  from  head  to 
foot. 

"Are  you  suffering  still?"  he  questioned  anxiously. 

"  N-no,  not  so  much.     But  I — I'm  very  cold." 

"  That's  too  bad.  We'll  have  you  all  right  in  a  min- 
ute. Put  your  arms  around  my  neck.  So."  And  bend- 
ing over,  with  care  for  her  injured  foot,  he  lifted  her  again 
in  his  arms  and  carried  her  up  the  hill.  This  time  she 
yielded  without  a  word,  nor  did  she  speak  until  he  had  put 
her  down  on  his  coat  before  the  fire. 

"  I  don't  know  how — to  thank  you — "  she  began. 

"  Then  don't.  Put  your  foot  out  toward  the  blaze 
and  rub  it  again.  You're  not  so  cold  now,  are  you?  " 

"  No — no.  I  think  it's  just  n-ncrvousness  that 
makes  me  shiver,"  she  sighed  softly.  "  I  never  knew 
what  a  fire  meant  before.  It's  awfully  good — the 
w-warmth  of  it." 

He  watched  her  curiously.  The  fire  was  bringing  a 
warm  tint  to  her  cheeks  and  scarlet  was  making  more  de- 
cisive the  lines  of  her  well-modeled  lips.  It  did  not  take 
Gallatin  long  to  decide  that  it  was  very  agreeable  to  look 
at  her.  As  he  paused,  she  glanced  up  at  him  and  caught 
the  end  of  his  gaze,  which  was  more  intense  in  its  direct- 
ness than  he  had  meant  it  to  be,  and  bent  her  head  quickly 
toward  the  fire,  her  lips  drawn  more  firmly  together — a 
second  acknowledgment  of  her  sense  of  the  situation,  a 
manifestation  of  her  convincing  femininity  which  con- 
firmed a  previous  impression. 

There  was  quick  refuge  in  the  practical. 

13 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


"  I'm  going  to  clean  the  fish,"  he  said  carelessly,  and 
turned  away. 

"  I'd  like  to  help,  if  I  could,"  she  murmured. 

"  You'd  better  nurse  your  ankle  for  a  while,"  he  said. 

"  It's  much  better  now,"  she  put  in.  "  I  can  move  it 
without  much  pain."  She  thrust  her  stockinged  foot 
farther  toward  the  blaze  and  worked  the  toes  slowly  up 
and  down,  but  as  she  did  so  she  flinched  again.  "  I'm  not 
of  much  use,  am  I?  "  she  asked  ruefully.  "  But  while 
you're  doing  other  things,  I  might  prepare  the  fish." 

"  Oh,  no.  I'll  do  that.  Let's  see.  We  need  some 
sticks  to  spit  them  on." 

"  Let  me  make  them ;  "  she  put  her  hand  into  the 
pocket  of  her  dress  and  drew  forth  a  knife.  "  You  see 
I  can  help." 

"  Great !  "  he  cried  delightedly.  "  You  haven't  got 
a  teapot,  a  frying-pan,  some  cups  and  forks  and  spoons 
hidden  anywhere  have  you?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  laughed  for  the  first  time, 
a  fine  generous  laugh  which  established  at  once  a  new  re- 
lationship between  them. 

"  No — I  haven't — but  I've  a  saucepan." 

"Where?"  in  amazement. 

"  Tied  to  my  creel — over  there,"  and  she  pointed, 
41  and  a  small  package  of  tea  and  some  biscuits.  I  take 
my  own  lunch  when  I  fish.  I  didn't  eat  any  to-day." 

"  Wonderful !  A  saucepan !  I  was  wondering  how — 
tied  to  your  creel,  you  say?  "  and  he  started  off  rapidly 
in  the  direction  of  the  spot  where  he  had  found  her. 

"And  please  b-bring  my  rod — and — and  my  shoe," 
she  cried. 

He  nodded  and  was  off  through  the  brush,  finding  the 
place  without  difficulty.  It  was  a  very  tiny  saucepan, 
which  would  hold  at  the  most  two  cupfuls  of  liquid,  but  it 


BABES   IN   THE    WOODS 

would  serve.  He  hurried  back  eagerly,  anxious  to  com- 
plete his  arrangements  for  the  meal,  and  found  her 
propped  up  against  the  back  log,  his  creel  beside  her,  in- 
dustriously preparing  the  fish. 

"  How  did  you  get  over  there?  "  he  asked. 

"  Crawled.  I  couldn't  abide  just  sitting.  I  feel  a 
lot  better  already." 

"  That  was  very  imprudent,"  he  said  quickly.  "  We'll 
never  get  out  of  here  until  you  can  use  that  foot." 

"Oh!  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  demurely.  "I'll 
try  to  be  careful.  Did  you  bring  my  shoe — and  leg- 
ging? " 

He  held  them  out  for  her  inspection. 

"  You'd  better  not  try  to  put  them  on — not  to-night, 
anyway.  To-morrow,  perhaps " 

"  To-morrow !  "  She  looked  up  at  him,  and  then  at  the 
frames  of  the  lean-to,  as  though  the  thought  that  she  must 
spend  the  night  in  the  woods  had  for  the  first  time  oc- 
curred to  her.  A  deep  purple  shadow  was  crawling 
slowly  up  from  the  eastward  and  only  the  very  tops  of 
the  tallest  trees  above  them  were  catching  the  warm  light 
of  the  declining  sun.  The  woods  were  dimmer  now  and 
distant  trees  which  a  moment  ago  had  been  visible  were 
merged  in  shadow.  Some  of  the  birds,  too,  were  begin- 
ning to  trill  their  even-song. 

"  Yes,"  he  went  on,  "  you  see  it's  getting  late.  There's 
hardly  a  chance  of  any  one  finding  us  to-night.  But  we're 
going  to  make  out  nicely.  If  you  really  insist  on  cleaning 
those  fish " 

"  I  do — and  on  making-  some  tea " 


"  Then  I  must  get  the  stuff  for  your  bed  before  it's 
too  dark  to  see." 

He  filled  the  saucepan  with  water  at  the  stream,  then 
turned  back  into  the  woods  for  the  cedar  twigs. 

15 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  The  bed  comes  first,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  That's  what  Joe  would  say.  There's  caribou  moss  up 
on  the  slope  and  the  balsam  is  handy.  It  isn't  going  to 
rain  to-night,  but  I'll  try  to  build  a  shelter  anyway — 
boughs  now — and  canoe  birches  to-morrow,  if  I  can  find 
any.  But  I've  got  to  hustle." 

Six  pilgrimages  he  made  into  the  woods,  bringing  back 
each  time  armloads  of  boughs  and  twigs.  He  was  con- 
scious presently  of  a  delicious  odor  of  cooking  food;  and 
long  before  he  had  brought  in  his  last  armful,  she  pleaded 
with  him  to  come  and  eat.  But  he  only  shook  his  head 
and  plunged  again  into  the  bushes.  It  was  almost  dark 
when  he  finished  and  threw  the  last  load  on  the  pile  he 
had  made.  When  he  approached  he  found  her  sitting  mo- 
tionless, watching  him,  both  creels  beside  her,  her  hand 
holding  up  to  the  fire  a  stick  which  stuck  through  the 
fish  she  had  cooked.  The  saucepan  was  simmering  in  the 
ashes. 

"  How  do  they  taste?  "  he  asked  cheerfully. 

"  I  haven't  eaten  any." 

"Why   not?" 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  do  that,"  sharply.  "  I  didn't  want 
you  to  wait." 

"  You  know,"  she  interrupted,  "  I'm  your  guest." 

"  I  didn't  know  it,"  he  laughed.  "  I  thought  I  was 
yours.  It's  your  saucepan " 

"  But  your  fish — "  she  added,  and  then  indicating  a  lit- 
tle mischievously,  "  except  that  biggest  one — which  was 
mine.  But  I'm  afraid  they'll  be  cold — I've  waited  so 
long.  You  must  eat  at  once,  you're  awfully  tired." 

"  Oh,  no,  I've  still  got  a  lot  to  do.  I'll  just  take  a 
bite  and " 

"  Please  sit  down — you  must ,  really." 

16 


WOODS 


Her  fingers  touched  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt  and  he 
yielded,  sinking  beside  her  with  an  unconscious  sigh  of 
relaxation  which  was  more  like  a  groan.  He  was  dead- 
tired  —  how  tired  he  had  not  known  until  he  had  yielded. 
She  saw  the  haggard  look  in  his  eyes  and  the  lines  which 
the  firelight  was  drawing  around  his  cheek-bones,  and  at 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  ;  and  it  came  to  her  suddenly  that 
he  might  not  be  so  strong  as  she  had  thought  him.  If 
he  was  an  invalid  from  the  South,  the  burden  of  carrying 
her  through  the  woods  might  easily  have  taxed  his 
strength.  She  examined  his  face  critically  for  a  moment, 
and  then  fumbling  quickly  in  the  pocket  of  her  dress 
drew  forth  a  small,  new-looking  flask,  which  gleamed 
brightly  in  the  firelight. 

"  Here,"  she  said  kindly,  "  take  some  of  this,  it  will 
do  you  good." 

Gallatin  followed  her  motion  wearily.  Her  hand  had 
even  reached  the  cap  of  the  bottle  and  had  given  it  a  pre- 
paratory twist  before  he  understood  what  it  all  meant. 
Then  he  started  suddenly  upright  and  put  his  fingers  over 
hers. 

"  No  !  "  he  muttered  huskily.  "  Not  that—  I—  I  don't 
—  I  won't  have  anything  —  thank  you." 

And  as  she  watched  his  lowering  brows  and  tightly 
drawn  lips  —  puzzled  and  not  a  little  curious,  he  stumbled 
to  his  feet  and  hurriedly  replaced  a  log  which  had 
fallen  from  the  fire.  But  when  a  moment  later  he  re- 
turned to  his  place,  his  features  bore  no  signs  of  discom- 
posure. 

"  I  think  I'm  only  hungry,"  he  mumbled. 

She  unhooked  the  largest  fish  from  the  stick  and 
handed  it  to  him  daintily. 

"  There,  that's  yours.  I've  been  saving  it  for  you  — 
just  to  convince  you  that  I'm  the  better  fisherman." 

17 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  he  said  soberly.  "  I'm  a  good  deal 
of  a  duffer  at  this  game." 

"  But  then,"  she  put  in  generously,  "  you  caught  more 
than  I  did,  and  that  evens  matters." 

They  had  begun  eating  now,  and  in  a  moment  it  seemed 
that  food  was  the  only  thing  they  had  lacked.  As  be- 
came two  healthy  young  animals,  they  ate  ravenously  of 
the  biscuits  she  had  carried  and  all  of  the  fish  she  had 
prepared,  and  then  Gallatin  cooked  more.  The  girl  re- 
moved the  metal  cup  from  the  bottom  of  her  flask  and 
taking  turn  and  turn  about  with  the  tiny  vessel  they 
drank  the  steaming  tea.  In  this  familiar  act  they  seemed 
to  have  reached  at  once  a  definite  and  satisfactory  under- 
standing. Gallatin  was  thankful  for  that,  and  he  was 
careful  to  put  her  still  further  at  her  ease  by  a  some- 
what obtrusive  air  of  indifference.  She  repaid  him  for 
this  consideration  by  the  frankness  of  her  smile.  He  ex- 
amined her  furtively  when  he  could  and  was  conscious 
that  when  his  face  was  turned  in  profile,  she,  too,  was 
studying  him  anxiously,  as  only  a  woman  in  such  a  situa- 
tion might.  Whatever  it  was  that  she  learned  was  not  un- 
pleasing  to  her,  for,  as  he  raised  his  hand  to  carry  the  tea 
to  his  lips,  her  voice  was  raised  in  a  different  tone. 

"  Your  hands ! "  she  said.  "  They're  all  cut  and 
bleeding." 

He  glanced  at  his  broken  knuckles  impersonally. 

"  Are  they?  I  hadn't  noticed  before.  You  see,  I 
hadn't  any  hatchet." 

"  Won't  you  let  me — hadn't  you  better  bathe  them  in 
the  water?  " 

"  A  bath  wouldn't  hurt  them,  would  it?  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  that.     Don't  they  hurt?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all.    But  I  wish  I  had  Joe's  axe." 

"Who's  Joe?" 

18 


BABES   IN   THE    WOODS 

"  My  guide." 

"  Oh." 

She  questioned  no  further;  for  here,  she  realized  in- 
stinctively, were  the  ends  of  the  essential,  the  beginnings 
of  the  personal.  And  so  the  conversation  quickly  turned 
to  practical  considerations.  Of  one  thing  she  was  now 
assured — her  companion  was  a  gentleman.  What  kind 
of  a  gentleman  she  had  not  guessed,  for  there  were  many 
kinds,  she  had  discovered;  but  there  was  nothing  un- 
duly alarming  in  his  manner  or  appearance  and  she  con- 
cluded for  the  present  to  accept  him,  with  reservations, 
upon  his  face  value. 

His  body  fed,  Gallatin  felt  singularly  comfortable. 
The  problems  that  had  hung  so  thickly  around  his  head 
'a  while  ago,  were  going  up  with  the  smoke  of  the  fire. 
Here  were  meat,  drink  and  society.  Were  not  these,  after 
all,  the  end  and  aim  of  human  existence?  Had  the  hoary 
earth  with  all  its  vast  treasures  ever  been  able  to  produce 
more?  He  took  his  pouch  from  his  pocket,  and  asking 
if  he  might  smoke,  lit  his  pipe  with  a  coal  from  the  fire 
(for  matches  were  precious)  and  sank  back  at  the  girl's 
feet.  The  time  for  confidences,  were  there  to  be  any, 
had  arrived.  She  felt  it  in  the  sudden  stoppage  of  the 
desultory  flow  of  comment  and  in  the  polite,  if  appraising 
steadiness  of  his  gaze. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  a  right  to  know  what  I'm  doing 
here,"  she  said  flushing  a  little,  "  but  there  isn't  anything 
to  tell.  I  left  our  camp — as  you  did,  to  fish.  I've  done 
it  before,  often.  Sometimes  alone — sometimes  with  a 
party.  I — I  wasn't  alone  this  morning  and  I — I — "  she 
hesitated,  frowning.  "  It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least 
about  that,  of  course,"  she  went  on  quickly.  "  I — I  got 
separated  from  my — my  companion  and  went  farther  into 
the  brush  than  I  had  intended  to  do.  When  I  found  that 

19 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


I  had  lost  my  way,  I  called  again  and  again.  Nobody 
answered.  Then  something  happened  to  me,  I  don't  know 
what.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  sound  of  the  echoes 
of  my  own  voice  that  frightened  me,  for  suddenly  I  seemed 
to  go  mad  with  terror.  After  that  I  don't  remember 
anything,  except  that  I  felt  I  must  reach  the  end  of  the 
woods,  so  that  I  could  see  beyond  the  barrier  of  trees 
which  seemed  to  be  closing  in  about  me  like  living  things. 
It  was  frightful.  I  only  knew  that  I  went  on  and  on — 
until  I  saw  you.  And  after  that — "  her  words  were  slow- 
er, her  voice  dropped  a  note  and  then  stopped  altogether 
— "  and  that  is  all,"  she  finished. 

"  It's  enough,  God  knows,"  he  said,  sitting  upright. 
"  You  must  have  suffered." 

"  I  did — I  wonder  what  got  into  me.  I've  never  been 
frightened  in  the  woods  before."  She  turned  her  head 
over  her  shoulder  and  peered  into  the  shadows.  "  I  don't 
seem  to  be  frightened  now." 

"  I'm  glad.  I'm  going  to  try  to  make  you  forget  that. 
You're  in  no  danger  here.  To-morrow  I'll  try  to  find  my 
back  trail — or  Joe  Keegon  may  follow  mine.  In  the 
meanwhile  " — and  he  started  to  his  feet,  "  I've  got  a  lot 
to  do.  Just  sit  quietly  there  and  nurse  your  ankle  while 
I  make  your  bed.  And  if  I  don't  make  it  properly,  the 
way  you're  used  to  having  it,  just  tell  me.  Won't  you?  " 

"  Hair,  please,  with  linen  sheets,  and  a  down  pillow," 
she  enjoined. 

"  I'll  try,"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  for  he  knew  now  that 
the  tone  she  used  was  only  a  cloak  to  hide  the  shrinking 
of  her  spirit.  She  sat  as  he  had  commanded,  leaning  as 
comfortably  as  she  could  against  the  tree  trunk,  watching 
his  dim  figure  as  it  moved  back  and  forth  among  the 
shadows.  First  he  trod  upon  and  scraped  the  ground, 
picking  up  small  stones  and  twigs  and  throwing  them  into 

20 


BABES   IN   THE    WOODS 

the  darkness  until  he  had  cleared  a  level  spot.  Then 
piece  by  piece  he  laid  the  caribou  moss  as  evenly  as  he 
could.  He  had  seen  Joe  do  this  some  days  ago  when 
they  had  made  their  three-day  camp.  The  cedar  came 
next ;  and,  beginning  at  the  foot  and  laying  the  twig  ends 
upward,  he  advanced  to  the  head,  a  layer  at  a  time,  thus 
successively  covering  the  stub  ends  and  making  a  soft 
and  level  couch.  When  it  was  finished,  he  lay  on  it, 
and  made  some  slight  adjustments. 

"  I'm  sorry  it's  not  a  pneumatic — and  about  the 
blankets — but  I'm  afraid  it  will  have  to  do." 

"  It  looks  beautiful,"  she  assented,  "  and  I  hate  pneu- 
matics. I'll  be  quite  warm  enough,  I'm  sure." 

To  make  the  matter  of  warmth  more  certain,  he 
pitched  two  of  the  biggest  logs  on  the  flames,  and  then 
made  a  rough  thatch  of  the  larger  boughs  over  the 
supports  that  he  had  set  in  position.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  stood  before  her  smiling. 

"  There's  nothing  left,  I  think — but  to  get  to  bed. 
I'm  going  off  for  enough  firewood  to  last  us  until  morn- 
ing. Shall  I  carry  you  over  now  or " 

"  Oh,  I  think  I  can  manage,"  she  said,  her  lips  drop- 
ping demurely.  "  I  did  before — while  you  were  away, 
you  know."  She  straightened  and  her  brows  drew  to- 
gether. "  What  I'm  puzzled  about  now  is  about  you. 
Where  are  you  going  to  sleep?  " 

"  Me?     That's  easy.     Out  here  by  the  fire." 

"Oh!"   she   said  thoughtfully. 


Ill 

VOICES 

DRAGGING  his   lagging   feet,   Gallatin   struggled 
on  until  his  task  was  finished.     He  took  the  sauce- 
pan and  cup  to  the  stream,  washed  them  carefully, 
and  filled  them  with  water.     Then  he  untied  the  handker- 
chief from  around  his  neck  and  washed  that,  too.    When 
he  got  back  to  the  fire,  he  found  the  girl  lying  on  the 
couch,  her  head  pillowed  on  her  arm,  her  eyes  gazing  into 
the  fire. 

"  I've  brought  some  water.  I  thought  you  might  like 
to  wash  your  face,"  he  said. 

"Thanks,"  gratefully.  "You're  very  thoughtful." 
He  mended  the  fire  for  the  night,  and  waiting  until 
she  had  finished  her  impromptu  toilet,  took  the  saucepan 
to  the  stream  and  rinsed  it  again.  Then  he  cleared  the 
remains  of  the  fish  away,  hung  the  creels  together  on  the 
limb  of  a  tree  and,  without  looking  toward  the  shelter, 
threw  himself  down  beside  the  fire,  utterly  exhausted. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said.  He  turned  his  head  toward 
her.  The  firelight  was  dancing  in  her  eyes,  which  were  as 
wide  open  as  his  own. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "  and  pleasant 
dreams." 

"  I  don't  seem  to  be  a  bit  sleepy — are  you?  " 
"  No,  not  yet.     Aren't  you  comfortable?  " 
"Oh,  yes.     It  isn't  that.     I  think  I'm  too  tired  to 
sleep." 


VOICES 

He  changed  his  position  a  little  to  ease  his  joints. 

"  I  believe  I  am,  too,"  he  smiled.  "  You'd  better 
try  though.  You've  had  a  bad  day." 

"  I  will.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night." 

But  try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  sleep.  Each  par- 
ticular muscle  was  clamoring  in  indignant  protest  at  its 
unaccustomed  usage.  The  ground,  too,  he  was  forced 
to  admit  was  not  as  soft  as  it  might  have  been,  and  he 
was  sure  from  the  way  his  hip  bone  ached,  that  it  was 
on  the  point  of  coming  through  his  flesh.  He  raised  his 
body  and  removed  a  small  flat  stone  which  had  been  the 
cause  of  the  discomfort.  As  he  did  so  he  heard  her  voice 
again. 

"  You're  dreadfully  unhappy.     I  don't  see  why : 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not.     This  is  fine.     Please  go  to  sleep." 

"  I  can't.  Why  didn't  you  make  another  bed  for 
yourself?  " 

"  I  didn't  think  about  it,"  he  said,  wondering  now  why 
the  thought  had  never  occurred  to  him.  "  You  see,"  he 
lied  cautiously,  "  I'm  used  to  this  sort  of  thing.  I  sleep 
this  way  very  often.  I  like  it." 

"Oh!" 

What  an  expressive  interjection  it  was  as  she  used  it. 
It  ran  a  soft  arpeggio  lip  the  scale  of  her  voice  and  down 
again,  in  curiosity  rather  than  surprise,  in  protest  rather 
than  acquiescence.  This  time  it  was  mildly  skeptical. 

"  It's  true — really.  I  like  it  here.  Now  I  insist  that 
you  go  to  sleep." 

"  If  you  use  that  tone,  I  suppose  I  must."  She  closed 
her  eyes,-  settled  one  soft  cheek  against  the  palm  of  her 
hand. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said  again- 

"  Good  night,"  he  repeated. 

23, 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Gallatin  turned  away  from  her  so  that  she  might  not 
see  his  face  and  lay  again  at  full  length  with  his  head  pil- 
lowed on  his  arms,  looking  into  the  fire.  His  mental  fac- 
ulties were  keenly  alive,  more  perhaps  by  reason  of  the 
silence  and  physical  inaction  than  they  had  been  at  any 
time  during  the  day.  Never  in  his  life  before,  it  seemed, 
had  he  been  so  broadly  awake.  His  mind  flitted  with 
meddlesome  agility  from  one  thought  to  another;  and 
so  before  he  had  lain  long,  he  was  aware  that  he  was 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  his  imagination. 

One  by  one  the  pictures  emerged — the  girl's  flight,  the 
wild  disorder  of  her  appearance,  her  slender  figure  lying 
helpless  in  the  leaves,  the  pathos  of  her  streaming  eyes, 
and  the  diminutive  proportions  of  her  slender  foot.  It 
was  curious,  too,  how  completely  his  own  difficulties  and 
discomforts  had  been  forgotten  in  the  mitigation  of  hers. 
Their  situation  he  was  forced  to  admit  was  not  as  satis- 
factory as  his  confident  words  of  assurance  had  promised. 

He  had  not  forgotten  that  most  of  his  back-trail  had 
been  laid  in  water,  and  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that 
Joe  Keegon  could  perform  the  impossible.  Their  getting 
out  by  the  way  he  had  come  must  largely  depend  upon 
his  own  efforts  in  finding  the  spot  up-stream  where  he  had 
come  through.  The  help  that  could  be  expected  from  her 
own  people  was  also  problematical.  She  had  come  a  long 
distance.  That  was  apparent  from  the  condition  of  her 
gaiters.  For  all  Gallatin  knew,  her  camp  nrght  be  ten, 
or  even  fifteen  miles  away.  Something  more  than  a  mild 
curiosity  possessed  him  as  to  this  camp  and  the  people 
who  were  using  it ;  for  there  was  a  mystery  in  her  sudden 
separation  from  the  "  companion  "  to  whom  she  had  so 
haltingly  and  vaguely  alluded. 

It  was  none  of  his  business,  of  course,  who  this  girl 
was  or  where  she  came  from;  he  was  aware,  at  this  mo- 

24 


VOICES 

ment  of  vagrant  visions,  of  an  unequivocal  and  not  un- 
pleasant interest  in  this  hapless  waif  whom  fortune,  with 
more  humor  than  discretion,  had  so  unceremoniously 
thrust  upon  his  mercies.  She  was  very  good  to  look  at. 
He  had  decided  that  back  in  the  gorge  where  she  had 
first  raised  her  elfin  head  from  the  leaves.  And  yet,  now 
as  he  lay  there  in  the  dark,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of 
him  guess  even  at  the  color  of  her  eyes  or  hair.  Her  hair 
at  first  had  seemed  quite  dark  until  a  shaft  of  the  declin- 
ing light  in  the  west  had  caught  it,  when  he  had  decided 
that  it  was  golden.  Her  eyes  had  been  too  light  to  be 
brown  and  yet — yes,  they  had  been  quite  too  dark  to  be 
blue.  The  past  perfect  tense  seemed  to  be  the  only  one 
which  suited  her,  for  in  spite  of  the  evidences  of  her 
tangibility  close  at  hand,  he  still  associated  her  with  the 
wild  things  of  the  forest,  the  timid  things  one  often  heard 
at  night  but  seldom  glimpsed  by  day.  Cautiously  he 
turned  his  head  and  looked  into  the  shelter.  She  lay 
as  he  had  seen  her  last,  her  eyes  closed,  her  breath  scarcely 
stirring  her  slender  body.  Her  knees  were  huddled  under 
her  skirt  and  she  looked  no  larger  than  a  child.  He  re- 
membered that  when  she  had  stood  upright  she  had  been 
almost  as  tall  as  he,  and  this  metamorphosis  only  added 
another  to  the  number  of  his  illusions. 

With  an  effort,  at  last,  he  lowered  his  head  and  closed 
his  eyes,  in  angry  determination.  What  the  devil  had 
the  troubles  of  this  unfortunate  female  to  do  with  him? 
What  difference  did  it  make  to  him  if  her  hair  and  eyes 
changed  color  or  that  she  could  become  grown  up  or  child- 
ish at  will?  Wasn't  one  fool  who  lost  himself  in  the 
woods  enough  in  all  conscience!  Besides  lie  had  a  right 
to  get  himself  lost  if  he  wanted  to.  He  was  his  own  mas- 
ter and  it  didn't  matter  to  any  one  but  himself  what  be- 
came of  him.  Why  couldn't  the  little  idiot  have  stayed 

as 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


where  she  belonged?     A  woman  had  no  business  in  the 
woods,  anyway. 

With  his  eyes  closed  it  was  easy  to  shut  out  sight,  but 
the  voices  of  the  night  persisted.  An  owl  called,  and  far 
off  in  the  distance  a  solitary  mournful  loon  took  up  the 
plaint.  There  were  sounds  close  at  hand,  too,  stealthy 
footfalls  of  minute  paws,  sniffs  from  the  impertinent  noses 
of  smaller  animals ;  the  downward  fluttering  of  leaves  and 
twigs  all  magnified  a  thousandfold,  pricked  upon  the  vel- 
vety background  of  the  vast  silence.  He  tried  to  relax 
his  muscles  and  tipped  his  head  back  upon  the  ground. 
As  he  did  so  his  lids  flew  up  like  those  of  a  doll  laid  upon 
its  back.  The  moon  was  climbing  now,  so  close  to  the 
tree  tops  that  the  leaves  and  branches  looked  like  painted 
scrolls  upon  its  surface.  In  the  thicket  shapes  were 
moving.  They  were  only  the  tossing  shadows  from  fois 
fire,  he  knew,  but  they  interested  him  and  he  watched  them 
for  a  long  time.  It  pleased  him  to  think  of  them  as  the 
shadows  of  lost  travelers.  He  could  hear  them  whisper- 
ing softly,  too,  in  the  intervals  between  the  other  sounds, 
and  in  the  distance,  farther  even  than  the  call  of  the  whip- 
poorwill,  he  could  hear  them  singing: 

^ 

A  la  claire  fontaine 

M'en  allant  promener 

J'ai  trouve  1'eau  si  belle 

Que  je  m'y  suis  baigne 

II  y  a  longtemps  que  le  t'aime 

Jamais  je  ne  t'oublierai. 

The  sound  of  the  rapids,  too,  or  was  it  only  the  tinkle 
of  the  stream? 

He  raised  his  head  and  peered  around  him  to  right  and 
left.  As  he  did  so  a  voice  joined  the  lesser  voices,  its 

26 


VOICES 

suddenness   breaking  the   stillness  like  the   impact   of   a 
blow. 

"  Aren't  you  asleep  ?  "  She  lay  as  he  had  seen  her 
before,  with  her  cheek  pillowed  upon  her  hand,  but  the 
firelight  danced  in  her  wide-open  eyes. 

"  No,"  he  said,  straightening  slowly.  "  I  don't  seem 
to  be  sleepy." 

"  Neither  am  I.     Did  you  hear  them — the  voices  ?  " 

"Yes,"  in  surprise.  "Did  you?  You're  not  fright- 
ened at  all,  are  you?  " 

"  Not  at  the  voices.  Other  things  seem  to  bother  me 
much  more.  The  little  sounds  close  at  hand,  I  can  under- 
stand, too.  There  was  a  four-legged  thing  out  there 
where  you  threw  the  fish  offal  a  while  ago.  But  you  didn't 
see  him " 

"  I  heard  him — but  he  won't  bother  us." 

"  No.     I'm  not  frightened — not  at  that." 

"At  what,  then?" 

"  I  don't— I  don't  think  I  really  know." 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  frightened  at." 

"  It — it's  just  that  I'm  frightened  at — nothing — noth- 
ing at  all." 

A  pause. 

"  I  wish  you'd  go  to  sleep." 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  after  a  while." 

"  How  is  your  foot  ?  " 

"  Oh,  better.  I'm  not  conscious  of  it  at  all.  It  isn't 
my  foot  that  keeps  me  awake.  It's  the  hush  of  the 
stillnesses  between  the  other  sounds,"  she  whispered,  as 
though  the  silence  might  hear  her.  "  You  never  get  those 
distinctions  sleeping  in  a  tent.  I  don't  tMnk  I've  ever 
really  known  the  woods  before — or  the  meaning  of  silence. 
The  world  is  poised  in  space  holding  its  breath  on  the 
brink  of  some  awful  abyss.  So  I  can't  help  holding  mine, 
too." 

27 
I 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


She  sat  upright  and  faced  him. 

"You  don't  mind  if  I  talk,  do  you?  I  suppose 
you'll  think  I'm  very  cowardly  and  foolish,  but  I  want  to 
hear  a  human  voice.  It  makes  things  real  somehow " 

"  Of  course,"  he  laughed.  He  took  out  his  watch  and 
held  it  toward  the  fire  with  a  practical  air.  "  Besides  its 
only  ten  o'clock." 

"  Oh,"  she  sighed,  "  I  thought  it  was  almost  morn- 
ing." 

He  silently  rose  and  kicked  the  fire  into  a  blaze. 

*'  It's  too  bad  you're  so  nervous." 

"  That's  it.  I'm  glad  you  called  it  by  a  name.  I'm 
glad  you  looked  at  your  watch  and  that  you  kicked  the 
fire.  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  there  were  such  things 
as  watches.  I  seem  to  have  been  poised  in  space,  too, 
waiting  and  listening  for  something — I  don't  know  what 
— as  though  I  had  asked  a  great  question  which  must  in 
some  way  be  answered." 

Gallatin  glanced  at  her  silently,  then  slowly  took  out 
his  pipe  and  tobacco. 

"  Let's  talk,"  he  said  quietly. 

But  instead  of  taking  his  old  place  beside  the  fire, 
he  sank  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  young  beech  trees  that 
formed  a  part  of  the  structure  of  her  shelter  near  the  head 
of  her  balsam  bed. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said  soothingly.  "  I 
felt  it,  too.  The  trouble  is — there's  never  any  answer. 
They'd  like  to  tell  us  many  things — those  people  out 
there,"  and  he  waved  his  hand.  "  They'd  like  to,  but  they 
can't.  It's  a  pity,  isn't  it?  The  sounds  are  cheerful, 
though.  They  say  they're  the  voyagers  singing  as  they 
shoot  the  rapids." 

She  watched  his  face  narrowly,  not  doubtfully  as  she 
28 


VOICES 

had  done  earlier,  but  eagerly,  as  though  seeking  the  other 
half  of  a  thought  which  conformed  to  her  own. 

"  I'm  glad  you  heard,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  thought 
I  must  have  dreamed — which  would  have  been  strange, 
since  I  haven't  been  asleep.  It  gives  me  a  greater  faith 
in  myself.  I  haven't  been  really  frightened,  I  hope.  Only 
filled  with  wonder  that  such  things  could  be." 

"  They  can't  really,  you  know,"  he  drawled.  "  Some 
people  never  hear  the  voices." 

"  I  never  did  before." 

"  The  woods  people  hear  them  often.  It  means," 
he  said  with  a  smile,  "  that  you  and  I  are  initiated  into  the 
Immortal  Fellowship." 

"  Oh !  "  in  a  whisper,  almost  of  awe. 

"  Yes,"  he  reassured  her  gaily,  "  you  belong  to  the 
Clan  of  Mak-wa,  the  Bear,  and  Kee-way-din,  the  North- 
Wind.  The  trees  are  keeping  watch.  Nothing  can  harm 
you  now." 

Her  eyes  lifted  to  his,  and  a  hesitating  smile  suddenly 
wreathed  her  lips. 

"  You're  very  comforting,"  she  said,  in  a  doubtful  tone 
which  showed  her  far  from  comforted.  "  I  really  would 
try  to  believe  you,"  with  a  glance  over  her  shoulder,  "  if 
it  wasn't  for  the  menace  of  the  silence  when  the  voices 
stop." 

"  The  menace " 

'*  Yes.  I  can't  explain.  It's  like  a  sudden  hush  of 
terror — as  though  the  pulse  of  Nature  had  stopped  beat- 
ing— was  waiting  on  some  immortal  decision." 

"  Yes,"  he  assented  quietly,  his  gaze  on  the  fire.  "  I 
know.  I  felt  that,  too." 

"Did  you?     I'm  glad.     It  makes  me  more  satisfied." 

She  was  sitting  up  on  her  bed  of  twigs  now,  leaning 

29 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


toward  him,  her  eyes  alight  with  a  strange  excitement, 
her  body  leaning  toward  his  own,  as  she  listened.  The 
firelight  danced  upon  her  hair  and  lit  her  face  with  a 
weird,  wild  beauty.  She  was  very  near  him  at  that  mo- 
ment— spiritually — physically.  In  a  gush  of  pity  he  put 
his  hand  over  hers  and  held  it  tightly  in  his  own,  his 
voice  reassuring  her  gently. 

"  No  harm  can  come  to  you  here,  child.  Don't  you 
understand?  There  are  no  voices — but  yours  and  mine. 
See!  The  woods  are  filled  with  moonlight.  It  is  as 
bright  as  day." 

She  had  put  one  arm  before  her  eyes  as  though  by 
physical  effort  to  obliterate  the  fancies  that  possessed 
her.  Her  hand  was  ice-cold  and  her  fingers  unconsciously 
groped  in  his,  seeking  strength  in  his  warm  clasp.  With 
an  effort  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  more  calmly 
into  the  shadows. 

"  No,  there  are  no  voices  now,"  she  repeated.  "  I 
am — foolish."  And  then  aware  of  his  fingers  still  holding 
hers,  she  withdrew  her  hand  abruptly  and  straightened 
her  slender  figure.  "  I — I'm  all  right,  I  think." 

He  straightened  slowly,  and  his  matter  of  fact  tone 
reassured  her. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  really  frightened  or  I 
shouldn't  have  spoken  so.  I'm  sorry." 

"  But  you  heard,"  she  persisted. 

Gallatin  took  up  his  pipe  and  put  it  in  his  mouth  be- 
fore he  replied. 

"  The  wilderness  is  no  place  for  nerves — or  imagina- 
tions. It  seems  that  you  have  the  one  and  I  the  other. 
There  were  no  sounds." 

"What  did  I  hear  then?" 

'  The  stream  and  the  leaves  overhead.  I'd  rathei; 
prove  it  to  you  by  daylight." 

30 


VOICES 

"  Will  the  day  never  come?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     I  suppose  so.     It  usually  does." 

There  was  no  smile  on  his  lips  and  another  note  in  his 
voice  caused  her  to  look  at  him  keenly.  The  bowl  of  his 
pipe  had  dropped  and  his  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  fire.  It 
was  a  new — and  distinct  impression  that  he  made  upon  her 
now — a  not  altogether  pleasant  one.  Until  a  moment 
ago,  he  had  been  merely  a  man  in  the  woods — a  kindly 
person  of  intelligence  with  a  talent  for  the  building  of 
balsam  beds ;  in  the  last  few  minutes  he  had  developed  an 
outline,  a  quite  too  visible  personality,  and  instinctively 
she  withdrew  from  the  contact. 

"  I  think  I  can  sleep  now,"  she  said. 

He  understood.  His  place  was  at  the  fireside  and  he 
took  it  without  reluctance,  aware  of  a  sense  of  self-re- 
proach. It  had  been  her  privilege  to  be  a  fool — but  not 
his.  He  threw  a  careless  glance  at  her  over  his  shoulder. 

"  If  you're  still  timid,  I'll  sit  up  and  watch." 

"  No,  you  mustn't  do  that."  But  by  this  time  he 
had  taken  another  coal  for  his  pipe  and  sitting,  Indian- 
fashion,  was  calmly  puffing. 

"  I'm  going  to,  anyway,"  he  said.  "  Don't  bother 
about  me,  please." 

Without  reply  she  stretched  herself  on  the  couch  and 
disposed  herself  again  to  sleep.  This  time  she  buried  her 
head  in  her  arms  and  lay  immovable.  He  knew  that  she 
was  not  asleep  and  that  she  was  still  listening  for  the 
menace  of  the  silences;  but  he  knew,  too,  that  if  suffer 
she  must,  he  could  not  help  her.  A  moment  ago  he  had 
been  on  the  point  of  taking  her  in  his  arms  and  soothing 
her  as  he  would  have  done  a  child.  They  had  been  very 
close  in  spirit  at  that  moment,  drawn  together  like  two 
vessels  alone  in  a  calm  waste  of  water.  It  was  the  appeal 

31 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


of  her  helplessness  to  his  strength,  his  strength  to  her 

helplessness,  of  course,  and  yet 

For  a  long  while  Gallatin  watched  the  flames  as  they 
rose  and  fell  and  the  column  of  smoke  that  drifted  upward 
on  the  still  night  air  and  lost  itself  among  the  leaves  over- 
head. The  voices  he  heard  no  more.  The  fire  crackled, 
a  vagrant  breeze  sighed,  a  bird  called  somewhere,  but  he 
realized  that  he  was  listening  for  another  sound.  The 
girl  had  not  moved  since  he  had  last  spoken,  and  now  he 
heard  the  rhythmic  breathing  which  told  him  that  at 
last  she  was  asleep.  He  waited  some  moments  more,  then 
softly  arose,  took  up  his  coat,  which  he  had  thrown  over 
a  log,  and  laid  it  gently  over  her  shoulders.  Then  he 
crept  back  to  his  fire. 


IV 

EDEN 

DAWN  stalked  solemnly  forth  and  the  heavens  were 
rosy  with  light.     Gallatin  stirred  uneasily,  then 
raised  his  head  stiffly,  peered  around  and  with 
difficulty  got  himself  into  a  sitting  posture.     Fire  still 
glowed  in  the  chinks  of  the  largest  log,  but  the  air  was 
chill.     He  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it,  winding  it 
carefully.     He  had  slept  five  hours,  without  moving. 

He  was  now  accustomed  to  the  convention  of  awaking 
early,  with  all  his  faculties  keenly  alive;  and  he  rose  to 
his  feet,  rubbing  the  stiffness  out  of  his  limbs  and  back, 
smiling  joyously  up  at  the  gracious  day.  In  the  shelter, 
her  back  toward  the  fire,  her  head  hidden  in  her  arms, 
the  girl  still  slept  soundly.  Cautiously  Gallatin  replen- 
ished the  fire,  piling  on  the  last  of  his  wood.  Save  for  a 
little  stiffness  in  his  back,  there  were,  it  seemed,  no  pen- 
alties to  be  imposed  for  his  night  in  the  open. 

A  shaft  of  sunlight  shot  across  the  topmost  branches 
of  the  trees,  and  instantly,  as  though  at  a  signal,  the  woods 
were  alive  with  sound.  There  was  a  mad  scampering 
in  the  pine  boughs  above  him,  and  a  squirrel  leapt  into 
the  air,  scurried  through  the  branches  of  a  maple  and  dis- 
appeared; two  tiny  wrens  engaged  in  a  noisy  discussion 
about  the  family  breakfast,  a  blue- jay  screamed  and  a 
woodpecker  tattoed  the  call  to  the  business  of  the  day. 
This,  Gallatin  knew,  was  meant  for  him.  There  was  much 
to  be  done,  but  he  fell  to  with  a  will,  his  muscles  eager 
for  the  task,  his  mind  cleared  of  the  fogs  of  doubt  and 

33 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


speculation  which  had  dimmed  it  the  night  before.  There 
were  no  problems  he  could  not  solve  alone,  no  difficulties 
his  ingenuity  could  not  surmount.  The  old  blood  of  his 
race,  which  years  before  had  conquered  this  same  wilder- 
ness, or  another  one  like  it,  surged  new  in  his  veins  and 
he  rejoiced  in  the  chance  to  test  his  strength  against  the 
unhandselled  matter  which  opposed  him.  The  forest 
smiled  upon  him,  already  gracious  in  defeat. 

He  returned  to  camp  after  a  turn  through  the  woods, 
and  in  one  hand  was  a  clean  sliver  of  birch-bark,  filled 
with  blueberries.  He  put  them  safely  in  a  hollow  place 
in  the  fallen  tree,  filled  the  saucepan  with  water  and 
placed  it  in  the  fire  to  boil.  Then  he  cleaned  fish. 

He  worked  noiselessly,  bringing  more  firewood,  plenty 
of  which  was  still  close  at  hand ;  and  after  a  glance  at  the 
sleeping  girl,  he  unsheathed  his  knife  and  went  again  into 
the  brush.  There,  after  a  search,  he  found  what  he  was 
looking  for — a  straight  young  oak  tree,  about  two  inches 
in  diameter.  He  succeeded  at  last,  with  much  pains  and 
care  for  his  knife,  in  cutting  it  through  and  trimming 
off  the  small  branches.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  club 
was  a  V-shaped  crotch,  made  by  two  strong  forking 
branches,  which  he  cut  and  whittled  until  they  were  to 
his  liking.  Returning  to  the  fire,  he  emptied  his  fly-hook, 
took  his  rod  and  unreeled  a  good  length  of  line,  which 
he  cut  off  and  placed  on  the  log  beside  him.  Then  with 
the  line,  he  bound  the  fly-hook,  stuffed  with  caribou  moss, 
into  the  fork  of  his  stick,  wrapping  the  strong  cord  care- 
fully until  he  had  made  a  serviceable  crutch.  He  was 
hobbling  around  near  the  fire  on  it,  testing  its  utility  when 
he  heard  a  gasp  of  amazement.  He  had  been  so  en- 
grossed in  his  task  that  he  had  not  thought  of  the  object 
of  these  attentions,  and  when  he  glanced  toward  the  shel- 
ter, she  was  sitting  upright,  regarding  him  curiously. 

34 


EDEN 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  doing?  " 

He  laughed  gaylj. 

"  Good  morning !  Hobbling,  I  believe.  Don't  I  do  it 
nicely  ?  " 

"  You — you've  hurt  yourself?  " 

He  took  the  crutch  from  under  his  arm  and  looked 
at  it  admiringly. 

"  Oh,  no — but  you  have." 

"I!  Oh,  yes.  I  forgot.  I  don't  think  I'll  need  it  at 
all.  I — "  She  started  up  and  tried  to  put  her  foot  down 
and  then  sank  back  in  dismay.  "  It  seems  to  still  hurt 
me  a  little,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Of  course  it  does.  You  don't  get  over  that  sort 
of  thing  in  a  minute.  It  will  be  better  when  the  blood 
gets  into  it.  Meanwhile,"  he  handed  her  the  stick,  "  you 
must  use  this.  Breakfast  will  be  ready  in  a  minute,  so 
if  you  feel  like  making  a  toilet " 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  she  glanced  around  her  at  the 
patines  of  gold  the  sun  had  laid  over  the  floor  of  their 
breakfast-room  and  asked  the  time. 

"  Half  past  seven." 

"  Then  I've  slept " 

"  Nearly  nine  hours." 

He  started  forward  to  help  her  to  her  feet  and  as  he 
did  so,  she  saw  his  coat,  which  had  fallen  from  her 
shoulders. 

"  You  shouldn't  have  given  me  your  coat.  You  must 
have  frozen." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  was  quite  comfortable.  The 
night  was  balmy — besides,  I  was  nearer  the  fire." 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged,"  she  said.  After  one  or 
two  clumsy  efforts  she  managed  to  master  her  crutch 
and,  refusing  his  aid,  made  her  way  to  the  stream  without 
difficulty. 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Gallatin  spitted  the  fish  on  the  charred  sticks  of  yes- 
terday and  held  them  up  to  the  fire,  his  appetite  pleasant- 
ly assertive  at  the  first  delicious  odor.  When  the  girl 
joined  him  a  while  later,  all  was  ready,  the  last  of  the 
tea  darkening  the  simmering  pot,  the  cooked  fish  lying  in 
a  row  on  a  flat  stone  in  the  fire. 

As  she  hobbled  up  he  rose  and  offered  her  a  place 
on  the  log  beside  him. 

"  I  hope  you're  hungry.  I  am.  Our  menu  is  small 
but  most  select — blueberries  Ojibway,  trout  saute,  and 
Bohea  en  casserole.  The  biscuits,  I'm  ashamed  to  say, 
are  no  more." 

She  reflected  his  manner  admirably.  "  Splendid !  I 
fairly  dote  on  blueberries.  Where  did  you  get  them? 
You're  really  a  very  wonderful  person.  For  luncheon, 
of  course,  cress  and  dandelion  salad,  fish  and  a  venison 
pasty.  For  dinner " 

"  Don't  be  too  sure,"  he  laughed.  "  Let's  eat  what 
we've  got  and  be  thankful." 

"  I  am  thankful,"  she  said,  picking  at  the  blueberries. 
"  I  might  have  been  still  lying  over  there  in  the  leaves." 
She  turned  her  face  confidingly  to  his.  "  Do  you  know, 
I  thought  you  were  a  bear." 

"Did  you?" 

"  Until  you  pointed  a  pistol  at  me — and  then  I 
thought  you  were  an  Indian." 

"  I'm  very  sorry.  I  didn't  know  what  you  were — I 
don't  think  I  quite  know  yet." 

She  took  the  cup  of  tea  from  his  fingers  before  she 
replied. 

"I?  Oh,  I'm  just — just  a  girl.  It  doesn't  matter 
much  who  or  what." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  be  inquisitive,"  he  said  quickly. 

"  But  you  were — "  she  insisted. 

36 


EDEN 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  I'm  afraid  I  was." 

"  Names  don't  matter — here,  do  they?  The  woods 
are  impersonal.  Can't  you  and  I  be  impersonal,  too  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,  but  my  curiosity  is  rather  natural — 
under  the  circumstances." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  gratify  it." 

"  Why  not  ?     My  name—  — " 

"  Because — I  prefer  not,"  she  said  firmly.  And  then : 
"  These  fish  are  delicious.  Some  more  tea,  please !  " 

He  looked  at  her  while  she  drank  and  then  took  the 
cup  from  her  hand  without  replying.  Her  chin  he  dis- 
covered could  fall  very  quickly  into  lines  of  determina- 
tion. Her  attitude  amused  him.  She  was,  it  seemed, 
a  person  in  the  habit  of  having  things  her  own  way  and 
it  even  flattered  him  that  she  had  discerned  that  he  must 
acquiesce. 

"  You  shall  have  your  own  way,"  he  laughed  amusedly, 
"  but  if  I  call  you  *  Hey,  there,'  don't  be  surprised." 

"  I  won't,"  she  smiled. 

When  they  had  finished  the  last  of  the  tea  he  got  up, 
washed  the  two  dishes  at  the  stream,  and  relit  the  ashes 
of  last  night's  pipe. 

"  The  Committee  of  Ways  and  Means  will  now  go  into 
executive  session,"  he  began.  "  I  haven't  the  least  idea 
where  we  are.  I  may  have  traveled  ten  miles  yesterday 
or  twenty.  I've  lost  my  bearings,  that's  sure,  and  so 
have  you.  There  are  two  things  to  do — one  of  them  is 
to  find  our  way  out  by  ourselves  and  the  other  is  to  let 
somebody  find  it  for  us.  The  first  plan  isn't  feasible  until 
you  are  able  to  walk r 

"  I  could  manage  with  my  crutch." 

"  No,  I'm  afraid  that  won't  do.  There's  no  use 
starting  off  until  we  know  where  we're  going." 

"  But  you  said  you  thought  you  could " 

37 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  still  think  so,"  he  put  in  quickly,  noting  the  sud- 
den anxious  query  in  her  eyes.  "  I'll  find  my  back-trail, 
but  it  may  take  time.  Meanwhile  you've  got  to  eat,  and 
keep  dry." 

"  It  isn't  going  to  rain." 

"  Not  now,  but  it  may  any  time.  I'll  get  you  com- 
fortable here  and  then  I'll  take  to  the  woods " 

"  And  leave  me  alone  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to.  We  have  four  fish  remain- 
ing— little  ones.  Judging  by  my  appetite  they're  not  quite 
enough  for  lunch — and  we  must  have  more  for  supper." 

"  I'll  catch  them." 

"  No,  you  must  rest  to-day.  I  have  my  automatic, 
too,"  he  went  on.  "  I'm  not  a  bad  shot.  Perhaps,  I  may 
bring  some  meat." 

"  But  I  can't  stay  here  and — do  nothing." 

"  You  can  help  fix  the  shack.     I'll  get  the  birch  now." 

He  was  moving  off  into  the  brush  when  she  called  him 
back. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  think  me  discourteous  awhile  ago. 
I  really  didn't  mean  to  be.  You — you've  been  very  good. 
I  don't  think  I  realized  that  we  might  have  to  be  here 
long.  You  understand — under  the  circumstances,  I 
thought  I'd  rather  not — have  you  know  anything  about 
me.  It  doesn't  matter,  really,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  politely,  and  he  went  into  the 
underbrush,  leaving  her  sitting  at  the  fire.  When  he  came 
back  with  his  first  armful  of  canoe  birches,  she  was  still 
sitting  there ;  but  he  went  on  gathering  birch  and  firewood, 
whistling  cheerfully  the  while.  She  watched  him  for  a 
moment  and  then  silently  got  up  with  the  aid  of  her 
crutch  and  reached  for  her  rod  and  creel.  She  had  hob- 
bled past  him  before  he  realized  her  intention. 

38 


EDEN 


"  I  wish  you  wouldn't,"  he  protested. 
"  I  must  do  my  share " 

(4 


You'd  do  it  better  by  saving  your  foot." 
"  I  won't  hurt  my  foot.     I  can  use  it  a  little  now." 
"  If  you  slipped,  things  might  go  badly  with  you." 
"  I  won't  fall.     I'm  going  down  stream  to  get  the  fish 
for  lunch." 

She  adjusted  her  crutch  and  moved  on.  Her  voice 
was  even  gay,  but  there  was  no  denying  the  quality  of  her 
resolution.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  lightly  and 
watched  her  until  she  had  disappeared  in  the  bushes, 
and  when  he  had  finished  his  tasks,  he  took  up  rod  and 
creel  and  followed  the  stream  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Of  course,  she  had  every  right  to  keep  her  identity  a 
secret,  if  she  chose,  but  it  annoyed  him  a  little  to  think 
that  he  had  laid  himself  open  even  to  so  slight  a  rebuff. 
Morning  seemed  to  have  made  a  difference  in  the  rela- 
tions, a  difference  he  was  as  yet  at  some  pains  to  define. 
Last  night  he  had  been  merely  a  chance  protector,  upon 
whose  hospitality  she  had  been  forced  against  her  will  and 
he  had  done  only  what  common  humanity  demanded  of  him. 
The  belief  that  her  predicament  was  only  temporary, 
had  for  the  time  given  her  the  assurance  the  situation  re- 
quired; but  with  the  morning,  which  had  failed  to  bring 
aid  she  had  expected  from  her  people,  her  obligations  to 
him  were  increasing  with  the  hours.  If,  as  he  had  indi- 
cated, it  might  be  several  days  or  even  more  before  she 
could  find  her  way  to  camp,  she  must  indeed  expect  to 
find  herself  completely  upon  his  mercies.  Gallatin  smiled 
as  he  cast  his  line.  With  its  other  compensations  day- 
light had  not  brought  him  or  his  companion  the  pleasure 
of  an  introduction !  Silly  little  fool !  Of  what  value  were 
introductions  in  the  heart  of  the  ancient  wood — or  else- 

39 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


where  for  that  matter!  No  mere  spoken  words  could 
purge  his  heart — or  any  man's !  Vaiii  conventions !  The 
hoary  earth  was  mocking  at  them. 

A  swirl  in  the  brown  pool  below  him,  a  flash  of  light ! 
Gallatin  swore  softly.  Two  pounds  and  a  half  at  least ! 
And  he  had  lost  him ! 

This  wouldn't  do.  He  was  fishing  for  his  dinner 
now — their  dinner.  He  couldn't  afford  to  make  many 
more  mistakes  like  that — not  with  another  mouth  to  fill. 
Why  should  he  care  who  or  what  she  was !  The  Gallatius 
had  never  been  of  a  curious  disposition  and  he  wondered 
that  he  should  care  anything  about  the  identity  of  this 
chance  female  thrown  upon  his  protection.  She  was  not 
in  any  way  unusual.  He  was  quite  sure  that  any  morning 
in  New  York  he  would  have  passed  a  hundred  like  her  on 
the  street  without  a  second  glance.  She  had  come  with 
the  falling  evening,  wrapped  in  mystery  and  had  shaken 
his  rather  somber  philosophy  out  of  its  bearings.  Night 
had  not  diminished  the  illusion;  and  once,  when  the  spell 
of  the  woods  had  held  them  for  a  moment  in  its-  thrall, 
he  had  been  on  the  point  of  taking  her  in  his  arms.  Did 
she  know  how  near  she  had  been  to  that  jeopardy?  He 
fancied  so.  That  was  why  things  were  different  to-day. 
It  was  the  sanity  of  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when 
there  was  no  firelight  to  throw  shadows  among  the  trees 
and  the  voyageurs  no  longer  sang  among  the  rapids.  In 
an  unguarded  moment  she  had  shown  him  a  shadowed 
corner  of  her  spirit  and  was  now  resenting  it.  A  woman's 
chief  business  in  life,  he  realized,  was  the  hiding  of  her 
own  frailties,  the  sources  of  impulse  and  the  repression  of 
unusual  emotions.  She  had  violated  these  canons  of  her 
sex  and  justly  feared  that  he  might  misinterpret  her. 
What  could  she  know  of  him,  what  expect — of  a  casual 
stranger  into  whose  arms  her  helpless  plight  had  literally 

40 


EDEN 

thrown  her?  He  was  forced  to  admit,  at  the  last,  that 
to  a  modest  woman  the  situation  was  trying. 

He  fished  moodily,  impatiently  and  unsuccessfully, 
losing  another  fish  in  the  pool  above.  Things  were  getting 
serious.  His  mind  now  intent,  he  cast  again  farther  up, 
dropping  the  fly  skillfully  just  above  a  tiny  rapid.  There 
he  was  rewarded ;  for  a  fish  struck  viciously,  not  so  large 
a  one  as  the  first,  but  large  enough  for  one  meal  for  his 
companion  at  least.  His  spirits  rose.  He  was  at  peace 
again  with  the  world,  in  the  elysium  of  the  true  fisher 
who  has  landed  the  first  fish  of  the  day. 

A  moment  ago  he  had  thought  her  commonplace.  He 
admitted  now  that  he  had  been  mistaken.  A  moment  ago 
he  had  been  trying  to  localize  her  by  the  token  of  some 
treacherous  trick  of  speech  or  intonation  and  had  almost 
been  ready  to  assign  her  to  that  limbo  of  all  superior 
indigenous  New  Yorkers — "  the  West  " ;  now  he  was  even 
willing  to  admit  that  she  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
a  cosmopolitan.  The  sanity  of  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing had  done  away  with  all  myth  and  moonshine,  but  day- 
light had,  it  seemed,  taken  nothing  from  her  elfin  come- 
liness. Her  hair  had  at  last  decided  to  be  brown,  her  eyes 
a  dark  blue,  her  figure  slim,  her  limbs  well  proportioned, 
her  motions  graceful.  Altogether  she  had  detracted  noth- 
ing from  the  purely  ornamental  character  of  the  land- 
scape. 

These  few  unimportant  facts  clearly  established,  Gal- 
latin  gave  himself  up  more  carefully  to  the  business  in 
hand,  and  by  the  time  he  reached  the  head  of  the  gorge, 
had  caught  an  even  dozen.  If  fish  were  to  serve  them  for 
diet,  they  would  not  go  hungry  on  this  day  at  least.  As 
he  went  higher  up  into  the  hills  he  kept  his  eyes  open 
for  the  landmarks  of  yesterday.  He  remembered  the 
two  big  rocks  in  the  gorge,  and  it  surprised  him  that 

41 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


they  were  no  nearer  to  his  camp.  The  task  of  finding 
his  back  trail  to  Joe  Keegon  would  be  more  difficult  than 
he  had  supposed,  and  he  knew  now  that  the  point  where 
he  had  first  fished  this  stream  was  many  miles  above. 
But  he  saw  no  reason  to  be  unduly  alarmed.  He  had 
served  his  apprenticeship;  and  with  an  axe  and  a  frying 
pan,  a  kettle,  some  flour,  tea,  and  a  tin  cup  or  two,  his 
position  would  have  had  no  terrors. 

Beyond  the  gorge  he  had  a  shot  at  a  deer  and  the 
echoes  derided  him,  for  he  missed  it.  He  shot  again  at 
smaller  things  and  had  the  luck  to  bring  down  two  squir- 
rels; then  realizing  that  his  cartridges  were  precious, 
made  his  way  back  to  camp. 

The  girl  was  already  at  the  fire,  her  crutch  beside  her 
against  the  fallen  log. 

"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming."  She  smiled. 
"  I  heard  your  shooting  and  it  frightened  me." 

Gallatin  held  the  squirrels  out  for  her  inspection. 

"  There !  "  he  said. 

"  Poor  little  things,  what  a  pity !  They  were  all  so 
happy  up  there  this  morning." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  helped.  We  must  eat,  you 
know.  Did  you  have  any  luck?  " 

She  opened  her  creel  and  showed  him. 

Again  she  had  caught  more  than  he. 

He  laughed  delightedly.  "  From  this  moment  you 
are  appointed  Fish-wife  Extraordinary.  I  fish  no  more. 
When  my  cartridges  are  used  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  but 
sit  by  the  fire." 

"  Did  you  find  your  trail?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  followed  it  for  a  mile  or  so.  I'm  afraid  I'll  have 
to  start  early  to-morrow.  I  want  to  see  you  comfortable 
first." 

His  manner  was  practical,  but  she  did  not  fail  to  catch 

42 


EDEN 

the  note  of  uncertainty  in  his  voice.  She  bent  her  gaze 
on  the  ground,  and  spoke  slowly. 

"  You're  very  kind  to  try  to  keep  me  in  ignorance,  but 
I  think  I  understand  now.  We  will  be  here  a  long  time." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  don't  think  that,"  cheer- 
fully. "  If  I  were  more  experienced,  I  would  promise  to 
find  my  own  guide  to-morrow.  I'm  going  to  do  the  best 
I  can.  I  won't  come  back  here  until  I  have  to  acknowl- 
edge myself  beaten.  Meanwhile,  many  things  may  hap- 
pen. Your  people  will  surely " 

"  We  are  lost,  both  of  us — hopelessly,"  she  persisted* 
"  The  fish  strike  here  as  though  these  streams  had  never 
been  fished  before.  My  people  will  find  me,  if  they  can; 
if  they  can't — I — I — must  make  the  best  of  my  position." 

She  spoke  bravely,  but  there  was  a  catch  in  her  voice 
that  he  had  heard  before. 

"  I'll  do  the  best  I  can.  I  want  you  to  believe  that. 
Three  or  four  days  at  the  most  and  I'm  sure  I  can  prom- 
ise you " 

"  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  promise,"  she  said.  "  We'll 
get  out  someway,  of  course,  and  if  it  wasn't  for  this  pro- 
voking foot " 

"Isn't  it  better?" 

"  Oh,  yes — better.  But,  of  course,  I  can't  bear  my 
weight  on  it.  It's  so  tiresome." 

She  seemed  on  the  point  of  tears,  and  while  he  was 
trying  to  think  of  something  to  say  to  console  her,  she 
reached  for  her  crutch  and  bravely  rose. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  cry.  I  abominate  whining  women. 
Give  me  something  to  do,  and  I  won't  trouble  you  with 
tears." 

"  You're  plucky,  that's  certain,"  he  said  admiringly. 
"  The  lunch  must  be  cooked.  We'll  save  the  squirrels  for 
supper.  I'm  going  to  work  on  your  house.  I'm  afraid 

43 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


there's  no  tea — no  real  tea,  but  we  might  try  arbor-vitae. 
They  say  its  palatable." 

She  insisted  on  cleaning  the  fish  and  preparing  the 
meal  while  he  sat  beside  her  and  began  sewing  two  rolls 
of  thick  birch-bark  together  with  white  spruce-roots. 
Between  whiles  she  watched  him  with  interest. 

"  I  never  heard  of  sewing  a  roof  before,"  she  said  with 
a  smile. 

"  It's  either  sewing  the  roof  or  reaping  the  whirlwind," 
he  laughed.  "  It  may  not  rain  before  we  get  out  of  here, 
but  I  think  it's  best  not  to  take  any  chances.  The  woods 
are  not  friendly  when  they're  wet.  Besides,  I'd  rather 
not  have  any  doctor's  bills." 

"That's  not  likely  here,"  she  laughed.  "And  the 
lunch  is  ready,"  she  announced. 

All  that  afternoon  he  worked  upon  her  shelter  and  by 
sunset  it  was  weather-tight.  On  three  sides  and  top 
it  was  covered  with  birches,  and  over  the  opening  toward 
the  fire  was  a  projecting  eave  which  could  be  lowered  over 
one  side  as  a  protection  from  the  wind.  When  he  had 
finished  it  he  stood  at  one  side  and  examined  his  handiwork 
with  an  approving  eye. 

She  had  already  thanked  him  many  times. 

"  Of  course,  I  don't  know  how  to  show  my  gratitude," 
she  said  again. 

"  Then  don't  try." 

"  But  you  can't  sleep  out  again." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can.     I'm  going  to  anyway." 

"You  mustn't." 

He  glanced  up  at  her  quizzically. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  want  to  take  my  share." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  can't.  That  house  is  yours.  You're 
going  to  sleep  there.  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  obey  or- 

44 


EDEN 

ders,"  he  finished.     "  You  see,  I'm  bigger  than  you  are." 

Her  eyes  measured  his  long  limbs  and  her  lips  curved 
in  a  crooked  little  smile. 

"  I  don't  like  to  obey  orders." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  must." 

"  You  haven't  any  right  to  make  yourself  uncomfort- 
able." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have,"  he  said.  "  Might  is  right — in  the 
woods." 

Something  in  the  way  he  spoke  caused  her  to  examine 
his  face  minutely,  but  his  eyes  were  laughing  at  her. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said  meekly. 


WOMAN    AND    MAN 

THERE  were  no  voices  in  the  woods  that  night,  or 
if  there  were  any  the  girl  in  the  lean-to  did  not 
hear  them.  The  sun  had  already  found  its  way 
past  the  protecting  flap  of  her  shack  before  she  awoke. 
The  first  thing  she  discovered  was  that  at  some  time 
during  the  night  he  had  put  his  coat  over  her  again.  She 
held  it  for  a  moment  in  her  fingers  thinking,  before  she 
rose;  then  got  up  quickly  and  peered  out.  The  morning 
was  chill,  but  the  fire  showed  signs  of  recent  attention  and 
on  the  saucepan  which  had  been  placed  near  the  fire  a 
piece  of  birch-bark  was  lying.  She  picked  it  up  curiously 
to  read  a  hastily  pencilled  scrawl: 

"  I'm  off  up  country.  I  must  go  far,  so  don't  be 
frightened  if  I'm  not  back  for  supper.  Be  careful  with 
your  foot — and  keep  the  fire  going.  There  are  fish  and 
firewood  enough  to  last.  Nothing  can  harm  you.  With 
luck  I'll  bring  my  guide  and  duffel-bag." 

She  glanced  quickly  over  her  shoulder  into  the  depths 
of  the  pine-woods  in  the  direction  he  must  have  taken  as 
though  she  hoped  to  see  him  walking  there;  then,  the 
birch-bark  still  in  her  hands,  sat  down  on  the  log,  read 
the  message  over  again,  smiling.  She  had  begun  to  un-1 
derstand  this  tall  young  man,  with  the  grim,  unshaven 
face  and  somber,  peering  eyes.  Those  eyes  had  frightened 
her  at  first;  and  even  now  the  memory  of  them  haunted 
her  until  she  recalled  just  what  they  did  when  he  smiled, 

46 


WOMAN   AND   MAN 


and  then  remembered  that  she  was  not  to  be  frightened 
any  more. 

He  had  been  gone  for  several  hours.  She  knew  this  by 
the  condition  of  the  fire,  but  wondered  why  he  had  not 
spoken  more  definitely  about  his  plans  the  night  before. 
Possibly  he  had  been  afraid  that  she  would  not  have  slept. 
She  had  slept,  soundly,  dreamlessly,  and  she  found  herself 
wondering  how  she  could  have  done  so.  The  last  thing 
she  could  recall  was  looking  out  through  sleepy  eyes  at 
his  profile  as  he  sat  motionless  by  the  fire  staring  into 
the  shadows.  She  knew  then  that  fear  of  him  had  passed 
and  that  had  she  slept  under  a  city  roof  she  could  not 
have  been  more  contented  to  sleep  securely. 

He  would  be  gone  all  day,  of  course,  and  she  must 
depend  upon  her  own  exertions.  First  she  filled  the  little 
saucepan  with  water  and  put  it  between  the  two  flat 
stones  that  served  for  its  hearth,  and  then  took  from 
the  creel  two  fish  that  he  had  cleaned  the  night  before. 
Half  way  to  the  fire  she  paused,  her  crutch  in  mid-air, 
balancing  herself  safely  without  its  aid.  She  peered  to 
right  and  left  among  the  branches  and  then  put  the  fish 
back  into  the  creel  in  quick  decision. 

A  bath!  She  had  been  longing  for  it  for  two  days! 
Her  resolution  made,  she  took  up  her  crutch  and  hobbled 
down  the  stream,  turning  her  head  back  over  her  shoulder 
in  the  direction  of  the  camp  as  if  she  still  feared  she 
might  have  misread  the  birch-bark  message.  Warm  with 
expectancy  and  the  delight  of  the  venture,  she  found  a 
sheltered  pool  beneath  the  dense  foliage  and  bathed  her 
lithe  young  body  in  the  icy  water.  Gasping  for  breath 
she  splashed  across  the  sandy  pool  and  back  again  with 
half  uttered  cries  of  delight ;  and  the  Naiads  and  Oreads 
flitted  fearfully  among  the  trees  whispering  and  peering 
cautiously  at  the  slim  white  creature  which  had  intruded 

47 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


so  fearlessly  upon  their  secret  preserves.  The  water  was 
cold !  Oh,  so  cold !  With  one  last  plunge  which  set  her 
teeth  chattering,  the  bather  clambered  up  the  bank  into 
the  sunlight  chilled  to  the  bone,  but  glowing  suddenly 
with  the  swift  rush  of  new  blood  along  her  rosy  limbs. 
Upright  upon  the  bank  she  moved  vigorously  back  and 
forth,  and  releasing  her  hair,  let  it  clothe  and  warm  her, 
while  she  stood  drying,  her  face  toward  the  sun.  Apollo 
looked  with  favor  on  this  Clytie  and  sent  his  warmest  rays 
that  she  might  not  have  gazed  at  him  in  vain. 

A  miracle  had  happened  to  her  ankle,  too,  for  she 
moved  quite  without  pain.  Dressing  and  making  her  way 
back  to  the  fire,  using  her  crutch  only  as  a  staff,  she 
gathered  cedar  by  the  way,  for  her  morning  tea.  Her 
mentor  had  made  some  of  it  for  her  the  night  before  and 
her  lips  twisted  at  the  thought  of  drinking  it  again ;  but 
the  essence  of  the  woods,  their  balsam,  their  fragrance, 
their  elixir  had  permeated  her  and  even  this  bitter  physic 
seemed  palatable  now.  She  remembered  his  couplet  last 
night : 

A  quart  of  arbor-  vitae 

To  make  you  big  and  mighty. 

At  the  fire  she  spitted  her  fish,  leaning  back  against 
the  log,  her  hair  drying  in  the  sun  and  wind,  the  warm 
fire  bringing  a  warm  glow  throughout  her  body.  She  ate 
and  then  stretched  her  arms  toward  the  kindly  trees.  It 
was  good  to  be  strong  and  young,  with  life  just  ripening. 
At  that  moment  it  did  not  matter  just  what  was  to  be- 
come of  her.  She  was  sure  that  she  no  longer  felt  any 
uneasiness  as  to  the  end  of  her  adventure.  Her  guardian 
had  gone  to  find  a  way  out.  He  would  come  back  to-night. 
In  time  she  would  go  back  to  camp.  She  didn't  care  when 
— the  present  seemed  sufficient. 

48 


WOMAN   AND   MAN 


In  all  ways  save  one — she  had  no  mirror.  She  combed 
her  hair  with  her  back  comb  and  braided  it  carefully  with 
fingers  long  accustomed.  Instinct  demanded  that  she  look 
at  her  face;  circumstance  refused  her  the  privilege,  for 
of  Vanity  Boxes  she  had  none.  And,  when,  like  Narcissus, 
she  knelt  at  the  brink  of  the  pool  and  looked  into  its 
depths,  the  water  was  full  of  iridescent  wrinkles  and  she 
only  saw  the  mocking  pebbles  upon  the  bottom,  having 
not  only  her  labor,  but  a  wetting  for  her  pains.  But  she 
accepted  the  reproof  calmly  and  finished  her  toilet 
secundum  naturam. 

The  larder  was  full,  but  she  fished  again — up  stream 
this  time,  for  evening  might  bring  another  mouth  to  feed. 
The  morning  dragged  wearily  enough  and  she  came  back 
to  her  fire  early,  with  but  four  fish  to  her  credit  account. 
She  hung  the  creel  in  its  accustomed  place  and  resumed 
her  seat  by  the  fire,  her  look  moving  restlessly  from  one 
object  to  another.  At  last  it  fell  upon  his  coat  which 
she  had  left  on  the  couch  in  the  shelter.  She  got  up, 
brought  it  forth  into  the  light  and  brushed  it  carefully. 
Several  objects  fell  from  its  pockets — a  tobacco  pouch 
nearly  empty,  a  disreputable  and  badly  charred  briar- 
wood  pipe  and  some  papers.  She  picked  up  the  objects 
one  by  one  and  put  them  back.  As  she  did  so  her  eye 
caught  the  superscription  of  a  letter.  She  drew  it  forth 
quickly  and  examined  it  again  as  though  she  had  not  been 
certain  that  she  had  read  it  correctly;  then  the  other 
envelope,  scanning  them  both  eagerly.  They  were  in- 
scribed with  the  same  name  and  address — all  written  with 
the  same  feminine  scrawl,  and  the  paper  smelt  of  helio- 
trope. She  held  them  in  her  fingers  a  moment,  her  lips 
compressed,  her  brow  thoughtful  and  then  abruptly  thrust 
them  into  the  pocket  again  and  put  the  coat  into  the 
shelter. 

49 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


She  sat  for  a  long  while,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  looking 
into  the  ashes  of  the  fire.  A  cloud  moved  slowly  across 
the  face  of  the  sun,  and  its  shadow  darkened  the  glade. 
A  hush  fell  upon  the  trees  as  though  all  living  things 
had  stopped  to  listen.  The  girl  glanced  at  the  sky  and 
saw  that  the  heavens  were  dark  with  the  portent  of  a 
storm,  when  some  new  thought  suddenly  struck  her,  for 
she  rose  quickly,  her  look  moving  from  the  shack  to  the 
trees  beside  it,  a  pine  and  a  maple  tree,  measuring  the  dis- 
tance and  the  ground  between  them.  Of  one  thing  she 
was  now  certain,  another  shelter  must  be  built  at  once. 

Her  crutch  in  her  hand  she  made  her  way  into  the 
thicket,  her  small  pearl  handled  knife  clutched  resolutely 
in  her  palm,  attacking  vigorously  the  first  straight  limb 
within  reach.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  she  had  cut 
only  half  way  through  it,  and  her  tender  hands  were  red 
and  blistered.  But  she  put  her  weight  on  the  bough  and 
snapped  it,  cutting  at  last  through  the  tough  fibers  and 
dragging  it  into  the  open.  Ten  minutes  more  of  cutting 
at  the  twigs  and  her  roof  joist  was  in  position.  Her  next 
attempt  was  unfortunate;  for  she  had  hardly  begun  to 
cut  a  notch  in  the  branch  she  had  selected,  when  the  knife- 
blade  broke  and  the  handle  twisted  in  her  hand,  the 
jagged  edge  cutting  a  gash  in  her  thumb.  She  cried  out 
with  pain,  dropping  the  knife  from  trembling  fingers.  It 
was  not  a  serious  wound,  but  the  few  drops  of  blood  made 
her  think  it  so ;  and,  pale  and  a  little  frightened,  she  made 
her  way  to  the  stream  and  dipped  it  into  the  cooling 
water,  bathing  and  bandaging  it  with  her  handkerchief. 

She  had  learned  something.  The  woods  were  only 
friendly  to  those  who  knew  how  to  cope  with  them.  She 
did  not  know  how  to  cope  with  them,  and  at  this  moment 
hated  them  blindly.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  left  but 
to  sit  by  the  fire  and  have  a  cry.  This  done,  she  felt 

50  i 


WOMAN   AND   MAN 


better,  but  she  made  no  further  attempt  to  build  the 
hut. 

The  sky  darkened  rapidly  and  a  few  drops  of  rain 
pattered  noisily  among  the  dry  leaves.  She  had  no  means 
of  learning  the  hour  of  the  day.  She  guessed  that  it 
would  soon  be  time  to  prepare  supper,  but  for  a  long 
while  she  did  not  move.  She  was  conquered  by  the  in- 
evitable facts  of  nature  and  her  eyes  plaintively  regarded 
the  beginnings  of  the  house  which  might  have  been,  but 
was  not. 

The  fire,  like  her  spirits  of  the  morning,  had  sunk. 
But  she  rose  now,  her  face  set  in  hard  little  lines  of  de- 
termination, and  laid  on  fresh  logs.  As  the  cheerful 
flames  arose  her  spirits  kindled,  too,  and  she  lifted  the 
creels  from  the  limb  and  sat  down  again  in  her  accustomed 
place  to  prepare  the  scanty  meal.  Her  eyes  sought  the 
up-country  trail  more  frequently  and  more  anxiously, 
but  the  shadows  of  the  night  had  fallen  thickly  before 
she  decided  to  cook  her  solitary  meal.  She  was  not  hun- 
gry as  she  had  been  in  the  morning  and  even  the  odor 
of  the  cooking  fish  was  not  appetizing.  She  only  cooked 
because  cooking  at  this  time  seemed  part  of  the  established 
order  of  things  and  because  cooking  was  something  that 
belonged  to  the  things  that  she  could  do. 

She  ate  mechanically,  rose  and  washed  her  utensils 
without  interest.  The  rain  was  falling  steadily;  but  she 
did  not  seem  to  care,  and  only  when  she  had  finished  her 
tasks  did  she  seek  the  shelter  of  the  hut.  Even  then  she 
stood  leaning  against  the  young  birch-tree  looking  out 
at  the  darkness  and  listening,  her  brows  puckered  in  tiny 
wrinkles  of  worry.  At  last  with  a  sigh,  she  sank  on  her 
balsam  bed  and  closed  her  eyes. 

The  night  was  sombrous  and  the  rain  had  been  falling 
for  an  hour.  The  girl  sat  beneath  the  shelter  of  her 

51 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


projecting  eave  upon  the  ground,  where  she  might  look 
out  up  the  stream,  her  chin  on  her  knees,  her  hands  clasped 
about  her  ankles,  watching  the  rain  drops  fall  glistening 
into  the  circle  of  firelight  and  hiss  spitefully  among  the 
fretting  flames.  She  had  been  crying  again  and  her 
eyes  were  dark  with  apprehension.  Her  hair  hung  in 
moist  wisps  about  her  brow  and  temples  and  her  lips  were 
drawn  in  plaintive  lines.  She  listened  intently.  A  dead 
branch  in  the  distance  cracked  and  fell.  She  started 
up  and  peered  out  for  the  hundredth  time  in  the  direction 
from  which  she  might  expect  his  approach.  Only  the 
soft  patter  of  the  rain  on  the  soaked  foliage  and  the 
ominous  blackness  of  before !  She  went  out  into  the  wet, 
heaping  more  logs  upon  the  flames.  The  fire  at  least  must 
be  kept  burning.  He  had  asked  that  of  her.  That  was 
her  duty  and  she  did  it  unquestioning  like  the  solitary  cliff- 
woman,  awaiting  in  anxious  expectation  the  return  of  her 
lord.  She  would  not  lie  down  upon  her  balsam  bed;  for 
that  would  mean  that  she  denied  the  belief  that  he  would 
return,  and  so  she  sat,  her  forehead  now  bent  upon  her 
knees,  her  eyes  closed,  only  her  ears  acutely  alive  to  the 
slightest  distant  sounds. 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  head,  her  eyes  alight.  She 
heard  sounds  now,  human  sounds,  the  crunch  of  foot- 
falls in  the  moist  earth,  the  snapping  of  fallen  twigs.  She 
ran  out  into  the  rain  and  called  joyously.  A  voice 
answered.  She  ran  forward  to  meet  him.  He  emerged 
into  the  light  striding  heavily,  bent  forward  under  the 
weight  of  something  he  was  carrying. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad,"  she  cried,  her  voice  trembling.  "  I 
had  begun  to  fear — I  don't  know  what.  I  thought — you 
— you — weren't  coming  back." 

He  grinned  wearily.  "  I  believe  I'd  almost  begun  to 
think  so  myself.  Phew !  But  the  thing  is  heavy !  " 

52 


WOMAN  AND   MAN 


He  lowered  it  from  his  shoulders  and  threw  it  heavily 
Hear  the  fire. 

"  W- — what  is  it?  "  she  asked  timidly. 

"  A  deer.     I  shot  it,"  he  said  laconically. 

He  straightened  slowly,  getting  the  kinks  out  of  his 
muscles  with  an  effort;  and  she  saw  that  his  face  was 
streaked  with  grime  and  sweat  and  that  his  body  in  the 
firelight  was  streaming  with  moisture.  His  eyes  peered 
darkly  from  deep  caverns. 

"  Oh !  You're  so  tired,"  she  cried.  "  Sit  down  by 
the  fire  at  once,  while  I  cook  your  supper."  And,  as  he 
made  no  move  to  obey  her,  she  seized  him  by  the  arms  and 
led  him  into  the  shelter  of  the  hut  and  pushed  him  gently 
down  upon  the  couch.  "You're  not  to  bother  about 
anything,"  she  went  on  in  a  businesslike  way.  "  I'll  have 
you  something  hot  in  a  jiffy.  I'm  so — so  sorry  for  you." 

He  sat  in  the  bunk,  with  a  drooping  head,  his  long  legs 
stretched  toward  the  blaze. 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  he  grunted.  But  he  watched  her 
flitting  to  and  fro  with  dull  eyes  and  took  the  cup  of  water 
she  offered  him  without  protest.  She  spitted  the  fish 
skillfully,  crouching  on  the  wet  log  as  she  broiled  them, 
while  he  watched  her,  half  asleep  with  the  grateful  sense 
of  warmth  and  relaxation.  He  did  not  realize  until  now 
that  he  had  been  on  the  move  with  little  rest  for  nearly 
eighteen  hours,  during  four  of  which  he  had  carried  a 
double  burden. 

The  cedar  tea  she  brought  him  first.  He  made  a  wry 
face  but  emptied  the  saucepan. 

"  By  George,  that's  good !  I  never  tasted  anything 
better."  He  ate  hungrily — like  an  animal,  grumbling  at 
the  fish  bones,  while  she  cooked  more  fish,  smiling  at  him. 
There  was  some  of  the  squirrel  left  and  he  ate  that,  too, 
not  stopping  to  question  why  she  had  not  eaten  it  her- 

53 


self.  Another  saucepan  of  the  tea,  and  he  gave  a  great 
sigh  of  satisfaction  and  moved  as  though  to  rise.  But 
she  pushed  him  gently  down  again,  fumbling  meanwhile 
in  the  pockets  of  his  coat  which  lay  beside  the  bed. 

"  Your  pipe — and  tobacco,"  she  said,  handing  them  to 
him  with  a  smile.  "  I  insist,  you  deserve  them,"  she  went 
to  the  fire  and  brought  him  a  glowing  pine  twig,  and 
blew  it  for  him  until  the  tobacco  was  ready.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  was  puffing  mechanically. 

She  sank  quickly  upon  the  dry  ground  beside  him  and 
he  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"  I  forgot,"  he  muttered.      "  Your  ankle !  " 

"  It's  well,"  she  smiled.  "  I  had  forgotten  it,  too. 
I  haven't  used  the  crutch  since  morning." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  a  day  or  two  of  rest  and  we'll  soon 
be  out  of  here." 

He  had  not  spoken  of  their  predicament  before,  nor 
had  she.  It  seemed  as  though  in  the  delight  of  having 
him  (or  some  one)  near  her,  she  had  forgotten  the  object 
of  his  pilgrimage.  He  had  not  forgotten.  His  mind  and 
body  ached  too  sorely  for  him  to  forget  his  failure.  She 
saw  the  tangle  at  his  brows  and  questioned  timidly. 

"  You  had— had  no  luck?  " 

"  No,  I  hadn't,  and  I  went  almost  to  the  headwaters. 
I  found  no  signs  of  travel  anywhere,  though  I  searched  the 
right  bank  carefully.  I  thought  I  could  remember —  "  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  brow  and  drew  his  long  fingers  down 
his  temple,  "  but  I  didn't." 

"  Don't  worry  about  it.  I'm  not  frightened  now.  In 
a  day  or  two  when  I'm  quite  sure  of  my  foot,  we'll  go  out 
together.  I  think  I  really  am — getting  a  little  tired  of 
fish,"  she  finished  smiling. 

"  I  don't  wonder.  How  would  a  venison  steak  strike 
you?  " 


WOMAN   AND    MAN 


"  Ah,  I  forgot.  Delicious !  You  must  be  a  very  good 
shot." 

"  Pure  luck.  You  see  my  eyes  were  pretty  wide  open 
to-day  and  the  breeze  was  favoring.  I  got  quite  close 
to  her  and  fired  three  times  before  she  could  start.  After 
I  shot  she  got  away  but  I  found  some  blood  and  followed. 
She  didn't  get  far." 

"  Poor  thing !  "  she  said  softly,  her  eyes  seeking  the 
dark  shadow  beyond  the  fire.  "  Poor  little  thing !  " 

He  looked  down  at  her,  a  new  expression  in  his  eyes ; 
yesterday  she  had  been  a  petulant,  and  self-willed  child, 
creating  a  false  position  where  none  need  have  existed, 
diffident  and  pretentious  by  turns,  self-conscious  and  over- 
natural.  Tonight  she  was  all  woman.  Under  his  tired 
lids  he  could  see  that — tender,  compassionate,  gentle,  but 
strong — always  strong.  There  were  lines  in  her  face, 
too,  that  he  had  not  seen  before.  She  had  been  crying. 
One  of  her  hands,  too,  was  bound  with  a  handkerchief. 

"  You've  hurt  yourself  again  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No — only  a  scratch.  My  knife — I — I  was  cut- 
ting"— hesitating — "  cutting  sticks  for  the  fish." 

If  she  had  not  hesitated,  he  might  not  have  examined 
her  so  minutely.  As  it  was  she  looked  up  at  him  irreso- 
lutely and  then  away.  Over  her  head,  beyond  the  edge 
of  the  shack,  he  saw  the  young  pine-tree  that  she  had 
placed  for  a  roof  support. 

"  All ! "  he  muttered.  But  he  understood.  And 
knocking  his  pipe  out  against  his  heel,  quietly  rose.  It 
was  raining  still,  not  gently  and  fitfully,  as  it  had  done 
^arlier  in  the  evening,  but  steadily,  as  though  nature  had 
determined  to  compensate  with  good  measure  for  the  weeks 
of  clear  skies  that  had  been  apportioned. 

"  I've  got  to  get  to  work,"  he  said  resolutely. 

"At  what?" 

55 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  The  shack  you  began " 

"  No." 

She  answered  so  shortly  that  he  glanced  at  her.  Her 
head  was  turned  away  from  him. 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  insisted,  still  looking  into  the  dark- 
ness. "  You  can  do  no  more  to-night.  You  must  sleep 
here." 

"  You're  very  kind,"  he  began  slowly. 

"  No — I'm  only  just — "  she  went  on  firmly.  "  You're 
so  tired  that  you  can  hardly  get  up.  I'm  not  going  to  let 
you  build  that  shack.  Besides,  you  couldn't.  Every- 
thing is  soaking.  Won't  you  sit  down  again?  I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

Slowly  he  obeyed,  dumb  with  fatigue,  but  inexpressibly 
grateful. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  a  little  fool,"  she  said 
with  petulant  abruptness,  as  though  denying  an  imputa- 
tion. "  I  think  I  had  a  right  to  be  timid  yesterday  and 
the  day  before.  I  was  very  much  frightened  and  I  felt 
very  strangely.  I  don't  know  very  many — many  men.  I 
was  brought  up  in  a  convent.  I  don't  think  I  quite  knew 
what  to — to  expect  of  you.  But  I  think  I  do  now."  She 
turned  her  gaze  very  frankly  to  his,  a  gaze  that  did 
not  waver  or  quibble  with  the  issue  any  more  than  her 
words  did.  "  You've  been  very  thoughtful — very  consid- 
erate of  me  and  you've  done  all  that  strength  could  do 
to  make  things  easier  for  me.  I  want  you  to  know  that 
I'm  very — very  thankful." 

He  began  to  speak — but  her  gesture  silenced  him. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  try  and 
accept  my  position  sensibly " 

"  I'm  sure  you're  doing  that " 

"  I'm  trving  to.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I've  any 
nonsense  left  in  my  head — or  false  consciousness.  I  want 

56 


WOMAN   AND   MAN 


you  to  treat  me  as  you'd  treat  a  man.  I'll  do  my  share 
if  you'll  show  me  how." 

"  You're  more  likely  to  show  me  how,"  he  said. 

"  No.  I  can  show  you  nothing  but  appreciation.  I 
do  that,  don't  I?" 

"  Yes — I  hope  I'll  deserve  it." 

"  I'm  taking  that  risk,"  she  said,  with  a  winning  laugh. 
"  I'd  have  to  be  pretty  sure  of  you,  or  I  wouldn't  be 
sitting  here  flattering  you  so." 

"  I  hope  you'll  keep  on,"  drowsily.     "  I  like  it." 

"  There  !  I  knew  it.  I've  spoiled  you  already.  You'll 
be  making  me  haul  the  fire-wood  to-morrow." 

"  And  cook  breakfast,"  he  put  in  sleepily.  "  Of 
course,  I'll  not  stir  out  of  here  all  day  if  you  talk  like 
this." 

"  Then  I  won't  talk  any  more." 

"  Do,  please,  it's  very  soothing." 

"  I  actually  believe  you're  falling  asleep." 

"  No — just  dreaming." 

"Of  what?" 

"  Of  the  time  a  thousand  years  ago  when  you  and  I 
did  all  this  before." 

She  looked  at  him  with  startled  eyes. 

"  What  made  you  say  that?  " 

"  Because  I  dreamed  it." 

"  It's  nonsense." 

"  I  suppose  it  is.     I'm — half — asleep." 

She  was  silent  a  moment — her  wide  gaze  on  the  fire. 

"  It's  curious  that  you  should  say  that." 

"Why  is  it?     I  only  told  what  I  was  dreaming  of." 

61  You  haven't  any  business  dreaming  such  things." 

"  It  all  happened — all  happened  before,"  he  muttered 
again.  His  head  was  nodding.  He  slept  as  he  sat.  She 
got  up  noiselessly  and  taking  him  by  the  shoulders  low- 

57 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 

ered  him  gently  to  the  bed.  His  lips  babbled  protestingly, 
but  he  did  not  wake,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  breathing 
heavily  in  the  deep  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

She  stood  beside  him  for  a  moment,  smiling,  and  then 
softly  sank  upon  the  ground  by  his  side,  still  watching. 
The  rain  had  stopped  falling,  but  outside  the  glistening 
circle  of  the  firelight  the  water  from  the  heavy  branches 
dripped  heavily.  The  heavens  lightened  and  a  bleary 
cloud  opened  a  single  eye  and,  blinking  a  moment,  at  last 
let  the  moonlight  through.  From  every  tree  pendants 
of  diamonds,  festoons  of  opals  were  hung  and  flashed  their 
radiance  in  the  rising  breeze,  falling  in  splendid  profusion. 
Over  her  head  the  drops  pattered  noisily  upon  the  roof. 
After  awhile,  she  heard  them  singly  and  at  last  silence 
fell  again  upon  the  forest. 

It  was  her  night  of  vigil  and  the  girl  kept  it  long. 
She  was  not  frightened  now.  Kee-way-din  crooned  a 
lullaby,  and  she  knew  that  the  trees  which  repeated  it 
were  her  friends.  It  was  a  night  of  mystery,  of  dreams 
and  of  a  melancholy  so  sweet  that  she  was  willing  even  then 
to  die  with  the  pain  of  it. 

And  in  the  distance  a  voice  sang  faintly : 

Le  jour  bien  souvent  dans  nos  bois 
Helas !  le  cceur  plein  de  souffrance, 
Je  cherche  ta  si  doux  voix 
Mais  tout  se  tait,  tout  est  silence 
Oh!  loin  de  toi,  de  toi  que  j'aime, 
Dans  les  ennuis,  6  mes  amours, 
Dans  les  regrets,  douleur  extreme, 
Loin  de  toi  je  passe  mes  jours. 

The  girl  at  last  slept  uneasily,  her  head  pillowed  upon 
the  cedar  twigs  beside  the  body  of  the  man,  who  lay  as 

58 


WOMAN   AND   MAN 


he  had  first  fallen,  prone,  his  arms  and  legs  sprawling. 
Twice  during  the  night  she  got  up  and  rebuilt  the  fire, 
for  it  was  cold.  Once  a  wolf  sat  just  outside  the  circle 
of  firelight  grinning  at  her,  not  even  moving  at  her  ap- 
proach, but  she  threw  a  stick  at  him  and  he  slunk  away. 
After  that,  she  pulled  the  carcass  of  the  deer  into  the 
opening  of  the  hut  and  mounted  guard  over  it  until  she 
was  sure  the  wolf  would  not  return.  Then  she  laj  down 
again  and  listened  to  the  breathing  of  the  man. 


VI 

THE   SHADOW 

THE  third  morning  rose  cold  and  clear.  Kee-wa-din 
had  brushed  the  heavens  clean,  and  the  rising  sun 
was  burnishing  them.  Orange  and  rose  color  vied 
for  precedence  in  the  splendid  procession  across  the  zenith, 
putting  to  flight  the  shadows  of  violet  and  purple  which 
retreated  westward  in  rout  before  the  gorgeous  pagean- 
try of  the  dawn. 

The  girl  stirred  and  started  up  at  once,  smiling  hope- 
fully at  the  radiant  sky.  Each  tree  awoke;  each  leaf 
and  bough  sent  forth  its  fragrant  tribute.  Nature  had 
wept,  was  drying  her  tears ;  and  all  the  woods  were  glad. 

The  man  still  slept.  The  girl  listened  again  for  the 
sounds  of  his  breathing,  and  then  rose  slowly  and  walked 
out.  She  shivered  with  the  cold  and  dampness,  for  her 
feet  had  been  wet  the  night  before  and  were  not  yet  dry, 
but  the  fire  still  glowed  warmly.  The  damp  twigs  sput- 
tered in  protest  as  she  put  them  on  and  a  shaft  of  white 
smoke  slanted  down  the  wind,  but  presently  the  grateful 
crackling  was  followed  by  a  burst  of  flame. 

The  explosion  of  a  pine-knot  awoke  the  sleeper  in  the 
hut,  who  rolled  over  on  his  couch,  looking  around  him  with 
heavy  eyes,  unable  to  put  his  thoughts  together.  A  ray 
of  sunlight  fell  upon  the  girl's  face  and  rested  there ;  and 
he  saw  that  she  was  pale  and  that  her  hair  had  fallen  in 
disorder  about  her  shoulders.  He  understood  then.  He 
had  slept  upon  her  bed  while  she — for  all  he  knew — had 
spent  the  night  where  he  now  saw  her.  He  straightened, 

60 


THE   SHADOW 


struggled  stiffly  to  his  feet  and  stumbled  out,  rubbing  his 
eyes. 

She  greeted  him  with  a  wan  smile. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said.     "  I  awoke  first,  you  see." 

"  I  c-can't  forgive  myself." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can,  since  /  do." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you." 

"  You  might  say  *  good  morning.' ' 

"  I've  been  asleep,"  he  went  on  with  a  slow  shake  of 
his  head,  "  while  you  lay — on  the  ground.  I  didn't  know. 
I  only  remember  sitting  there.  I  meant  to  get  up — 

She  laughed  deliciously. 

"  But  you  couldn't  have — unless  you  had  walked  in 
your  sleep." 

"  I  remember  nothing."  He  ran  his  blackened  fingers 
through  his  hair.  "  Oh,  yes,  the  trail — the  deer — and — ; 
you  cooking  fish — and  then — after  that — we  talked,  didn't 
we?" 

He  was  awake  now,  and  blundered  forward  eagerly  to 
take  the  branch  which  she  had  lifted  from  the  wood-pile. 
But  she  yielded  grudgingly. 

"  I'm  to  do  my  share — that  we  agreed " 

"  No — you're  a  woman.  You  shall  do  nothing — go 
into  the  hut  and  rest." 

"  I'm  not  tired." 

Her  appearance  belied  her  words.  He  looked  down 
at  her  tenderly  and  laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder. 

"You  have  not  slept?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  slept,"  looking  away. 

"  Why  didn't  you  wake  me?  " 

"  It  wasn't  necessary." 

She  smiled,  but  did  not  meet  his  gaze,  which  she  felt 
was  bent  eagerly  in  search  of  her  own. 

"  Where  did  you  sleep  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

61 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  In  the  shelter — beside  you." 

"  And  I  did  not  know !  Do  you  think  you  can  f or- 
'give  me?  " 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  shoulder  and  gently  removed 
his  fingers.  But  his  own  seized  hers  firmly  and  would  not 
let  them  go. 

"  Listen,  please,"  he  pleaded,  "  won't  you  ?  I  want 
you  to  understand — many  things.  I  want  you  to  know 
that  I  wouldn't  willingly  have  slept  there  for  anything 
in  the  world.  It's  a  matter  of  pride  with  me  to  make  you 
comfortable.  I'm  under  a  moral  obligation  to  myself — 
it  goes  deeper  than  you  can  ever  guess — to  bring  you 
safely  out  of  this,  and  give  you  to  your  people.  You 
don't  know  how  I've  blessed  the  chance  that  threw  you 
in  my  way — here — since  I've  been  in  the  woods — that  it 
happened  to  be  my  opportunity  instead  of  some  one 
else's  who  didn't  need  it  as  I  did.  I  did  need  it.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  or  why,  but  I  did.  It  doesn't  matter  who  I 
am,  but  I  want  you  to  appreciate  this  much,  at  least,  that 
I  never  knew  anything  of  the  joy  of  living  until  I  found 
it  here,  the  delight  of  the  struggle  to  satisfy  the  mere 
pangs  of  healthy  hunger — yours  and  mine,  the  wonderful 
ache  of  muscles  stretched  to  the  snapping  point."  He 
stopped,  with  a  sharp  sigh. 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  can't  understand  all  this.  I  don't 
think  I  want  you  to — or  why  it  hurts  me  to  know  that 
for  one  night  at  least  you  have  suffered " 

"  I  do  understand,  I  think,"  she  murmured  slowly. 
She  had  not  looked  at  him,  and  her  gaze  sought  the  dis- 
tant trees.  "  I  did  not  suffer,  though,"  she  added. 

;'  You  had  been  crying — they  hurt  me,  too,  those 
anxious  eyes  of  yours." 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  not  come  back,  that  was  all," 
she  said  frankly.  "  I'm  rather  useless,  you  see." 

62 


THE   SHADOW 


He  took  her  other  hand  and  made  her  look  at  him. 

"  You  felt  the  need  of  me?  "  he  queried. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  she  said  simply.  "  What  would  I 
have  done  without  you?  " 

He  laughed  happily,  "  What  wouldn't  you  have  done 
— if  you  hadn't  cut  your  finger?  " 

She  colored  and  her  eyes,  in  some  confusion,  sought 
the  two  trees  which  still  bore  the  evidence  of  her  ill-fated 
building  operation. 

"  Yesterday,  when  I  was  away  you  started  to  build  a 
shack  for  me,"  he  went  on.  "  It  was  your  right,  of 
course " 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested,  lowering  her  head.  "  I 
thought  you'd  like  it  so,  I " 

"  I  understand,"  gently.     "  But  it  seems — 

"  It  was  a  selfish  motive  after  all,"  she  broke  in  again. 
"  Your  strength  is  more  important  than  mine — 

He  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  You  can't  mislead  me.  Last  night  I  learned  some- 
thing of  what  you  are — gentle,  courageous,  motherly, 
self-effacing.  I'll  remember  you  so — always." 

She  disengaged  her  hands  abruptly  and  took  up  the" 
saucepan. 

"  Meanwhile,  the  breakfast  is  to  be  cooked — "  she  said! 
coolly.  There  was  no  reproof  in  her  tone,  only  good  fel- 
lowship, a  deliberate  confirmation  of  her  promises  of  the 
night  before. 

With  a  smile  he  took  the  saucepan  from  her  hand  and 
went  about  his  work.  It  seemed  that  his  failure  yester- 
day to  find  a  way  out  meant  more  to  him  this  morning 
than  it  did  to  her.  His  limbs  were  heavy,  too,  and  his 
body  ached  from  top  to  toe ;  but  he  went  to  the  brook  and 
washed,  then  searched  the  woods  for  the  blueberries  that 
she  liked  and  silently  cooked  the  meal. 

63 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


As  he  did  not  eat  she  asked  him,  "  Aren't  you 
hungry  ?  " 

"  Not  very." 

He  took  up  a  fish  and  turned  it  over  in  his  fingers.  "  I 
think  I'll  wait  for  the  venison  pasty." 

"Don't  you  feel  well?" 

"  Just  a  little  loggy,"  that's  all.  "  I  think  I  slept  too 
long." 

She  looked  up  at  him  suddenly,  and  then  with  friendly 
solicitude,  laid  her  fingers  lightly  along  his  brow.  The 
gesture  was  natural,  gentle,  so  exquisitely  feminine,  that 
he  closed  his  eyes  delightedly,  conscious  of  the  agreeable 
softness  of  her  fingers  and  the  coolness  of  their  touch. 

"  Your  brow  is  hot,"  she  said  quickly. 

"  Is  it?  "  he  asked.     "  That's  queer,  I  feel  chilly." 

"  You've  caught  a  bad  cold,  I'm  afraid,"  she  said,  re- 
moving her  fingers.  "  It's  very — very  imprudent  of  you." 

Not  satisfied  with  the  rapidity  of  her  diagnosis,  he 
thrust  his  hand  toward  her  for  confirmation. 

"  I  haven't  any  fever,  have  I?  " 

Her  fingers  lightly  touched  his  wrist. 

"  I'm  afraid  so.    Your  pulse  is  thumping  pretty  fast." 

"  Very  fast?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken." 

"  No,  you  have  fever.     You'll  have  to  rest  to-day." 

"  I  don't  want  to  rest.     I  couldn't  if  I  wanted  to." 

"  You  must!  "  she  said  peremptorily.  "  There's  noth- 
ing but  the  firewood.  I  can  get  that." 

"  There's  the  shack  to  build,"  he  said. 

"  The  shack  must  wait,"  she  replied. 

"  And  the  deer  to  be  butchered  ?  " 

She  looked  at  the  carcass  and  then  put  her  fingers 
over  her  eyes.  But  she  looked  up  at  him  resolutely. 

64 


THE   SHADOW 


"Yes,"  she  persisted,  "I'll  do  that,  too— if  you'll 
show  me  how." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  with  a  soft  light  in  his 
ideep-set  eyes  and  then  rose  heavily  to  his  feet. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  want  to  make  me  an  invalid," 
he  said,  "  but  that  can't  be.  There's  nothing  wrong  with 
me.  What  I  want  is  work.  The  more  I  have  the  better 
I'll  feel.  I'm  going  to  skin  the  deer."  And  disregarding 
her  protests,  he  leaned  over  and  caught  up  the  hind-legs 
of  the  creature,  dragging  it  into  the  bushes. 

The  effort  cost  him  a  violent  throbbing  in  the  head 
and  pains  like  little  needle  pricks  through  his  body.  His 
eyes  swam  and  the  hand  that  held  his  knife  was  trembling ; 
but  after  a  while  he  finished  his  work,  and  cutting  a  strong 
young  twig,  thrust  it  through  the  tendons  of  the  hind 
legs  and  carried  the  meat  back  to  camp,  hanging  it  high 
on  a  projecting  branch  near  the  fire. 

She  watched  him  moving  slowly  about,  but  covered  her 
eyes  at  the  sight  of  his  red  hands  and  the  erubescent 
carcass. 

"  Don't  you  feel  like  a  murderer?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  I  think  I  do ;  half  of  me  does — 
but  the  hunter,  the  primitive  man  in  me  is  rejoicing. 
There's  an  instinct  in  all  of  us  that  belongs  to  a  lower 
order  of  creation." 

"  But  it— it's  unclean " 

"  Then  all  meat  is  unclean.  The  reproach  is  on  the 
race — not  on  us.  After  all  we  are  only  first  cousins  to 
the  South-Sea  gentlemen  who  eat  one  another,"  he  laughed. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  can  eat  it,"  she  shuddered. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will — when  you're  hungry." 

"  I'll  never  eat  meat  again,"  she  insisted.  "  Never ! 
The  brutality  of  it !  " 

"  What's  the  difference?  "  he  laughed.  "  In  town 

65 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


we  pay  a  butcher  to  do  our  dirty  work — here  we  do  it 
ourselves.  Our  responsibilities  are  just  as  great  there 
as  here." 

"  That's  true — I  never  thought  of  that,  but  I  can't 
forget  that  creature's  eyes."  And  while  she  looked 
soberly  into  the  fire,  he  went  down  to  the  stream  and 
cleansed  himself,  washing  away  all  traces  of  his  unpleas- 
ant task.  When  he  returned  she  still  sat  as  before. 

"  Why  is  it?  "  she  asked  thoughtfully,  "  that  the  ani- 
mal appetites  are  so  repellent,  since  we  ourselves  are 
animals?  And  yet  we  tolerate  gluttony — drunkenness 
among  our  kind?  We're  only  in  a  larva  state  after  all." 

He  had  sunk  on  the  log  beside  her  for  the  comfort  of 
the  blaze,  and  as  she  spoke  the  shadows  under  his  brows 
darkened  with  his  frown  and  the  chin  beneath  its  stubble 
hardened  in  deep  lines. 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  Thoreau  had  the  right  idea 
of  life,"  she  said  slowly.  "  There  are  infinite  degrees  of 
gluttony — infinite  degrees  of  drunkenness.  I  felt  shame 
for  you  just  now — for  myself — for  the  blood  on  your 
hands.  I  can't  explain  it.  It  seemed  different  from 
everything  else  that  you  have  done  here  in  the  woods,  for 
the  forest  is  clean,  sweet-smelling.  I  did  not  like  to 
feel  ashamed  for  you.  You  see,"  she  smiled,  "  I've  been 
rating  you  very  highly." 

"  No,"  he  groaned,  his  head  in  his  hands.  "  Don't ! 
You  mustn't  do  that !  " 

At  the  somber  note  she  turned  and  looked  at  him 
keenly.  She  could  not  see  his  face,  but  the  fingers  that 
hid  it  were  trembling. 

"  You're  ill !  "  she  gasped.     "  Your  body  is  shaking." 

He  sat  up  with  an  effort  and  his  face  was  the  color 
of  ashes. 

"  No,  it's  nothing.  Just  a  chill,  I  think.  I'll  be  all 
right  in  a  minute." 

66 


THE   SHADOW 


But  she  put  her  arm  around  him  and  made  him  sit  on 
the  log  nearest  to  the  fire. 

"  This  won't  do  at  all,"  she  said  anxiously.  "  You've 
got  to  take  care  of  yourself — to  let  me  take  care  of  you. 
Here !  You  must  drink  this." 

She  had  taken  the  flask  from  her  pocket  and  before 
he  knew  it  had  thrust  it  to  his  lips.  He  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, his  eyes  staring  into  space  and  then  without  ques- 
tion, drank  deep,  his  eyes  closed. 

And  as  the  leaping  fires  went  sparkling  through  his 
body,  he  set  the  vessel  down,  screwed  on  the  lid  and  put 
it  on  the  log  beside  him.  Two  dark  spots  appeared  be- 
neath the  tan  and  mounted  slowly  to  his  temples,  two  red 
spots  like  the  flush  of  shame.  An  involuntary  shudder 
or  two  and  the  trembling  ceased.  Then  he  sat  up  and 
looked  at  her. 

"  A  mustard  foot-bath  and  some  quinine,  please,"  he 
asked  with  a  queer  laugh. 

But  she  refused  to  smile.  "  You  slept  in  your  soak- 
ing clothes  last  night,"  severely. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed  again. 

"  That's  nothing.  I've  done  that  often.  Besides, 
what  else  could  I  do  ?  If  you  had  wakened  me " 

"  That  is  unkind." 

She  was  on  the  verge  of  tears.  So  he  got  to  his  feet 
quickly  and  shaking  himself  like  a  shaggy  dog,  faced  her 
almost  jauntily. 

"  I'm  right  as  a  trivet,"  he  announced.  "  And  I'm 
going  to  call  you  Hebe — the  cup-bearer  to  the  gods — or 
Euphrosyne.  Which  do  you  like  the  best?  " 

"  I  don't  like  either,"  she  said  with  a  pucker  at  her 
brow.  And  then  with  the  demureness  which  so  became 
her.  "  My  name  is — is  Jane." 

"  Jane !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Jane !  of  course.  Do  you 
know  I've  been  wondering,  ever  since  we've  been  here  what 

67 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


name  suited  you  best,  Phyllis,  Millicent,  Elizabeth,  and 
a  dozen  others  I've  tried  them  all ;  but  I'm  sure  now  that 
Jane  suits  you  best  of  all.  Jane !  "  he  chuckled  gleefully. 
"  Yes,  it  does — why,  it's  you.  How  could  I  ever  have 
thought  of  anything  else?  " 

Her  lips  pouted  reluctantly  and  finally  broke  into 
laughter,  which  showed  her  even  white  teeth  and  discovered 
new  dimples. 

"  Do  you  really  like  it?  " 

"  How  could  I  help  it?  It's  you,  I  tell  you — so 
sound,  sane,  determined  and  a  little  prim,  too." 

"  I'm  not  prim." 

"  Yes,"  he  decided,  "  you're  prim — when  you  think7 
that  you  ought  to  be." 

"  Oh." 

He  seated  himself  beside  her,  looking  at  her  quizzically 
as  though  she  was  a  person  he  had  never  seen  before — as 
though  the  half-identity  she  provided  had  invested  her 
with  new  and  unexpected  attributes. 

"  It  was  nice  of  you  to  tell  me.  My  name  is  Phil," 
he  said. 

"  Is  it?  "  she  asked  almost  mechanically. 

"Yes,  don't  you  like  it?  " 

Her  glance  moved  quickly  from  one  object  to  another 
— the  shelter,  the  balsam  bed,  and  the  crutch  which  leaned 
against  the  door  flap. 

"  Don't  you  like  it?  "  he  repeated  eagerly. 

"  No,"  quietly.     "  It  isn't  like  you  at  all." 

Probed  for  a  reason,  she  would  give  none,  except  the 
woman's  reason  which  was  no  reason  at  all.  Only  when  he 
ceased  probing  did  she  give  it,  and  then  voluntarily. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  change  it  then,"  he  laughed. 

"  Yes,  change  it,  please.  The  only  Phils  I've  ever 
known  were  men  of  a  different  stripe — men  without  pur- 

68 


THE   SHADOW 


poses,  without  ambitions."  And  then,  after  a  pause,  "  I 
believe  you  to  be  different." 

"  No !  I  have  no  purposes — no  ambitions,"  he  said 
glowering  again  at  the  fire. 

"  That  is  not  true." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  Because  you  have  ideals — of  purity,  of  virtue,  of 
courage." 

"  No,"  he  mumbled,  "  I  have  no  ideals.  Life  is  a 
joke — without  a  point.  If  it  has  any,  I  haven't  discov- 
ered it  yet." 

Her  eyes  sought  his  face  in  a  vague  disquiet,  but  he 
would  not  meet  her  look.  The  flush  on  his  cheek  had 
deepened,  his  gaze  roved  dully  from  one  object  to  another 
and  his  fingers  moved  aimlessly  upon  his  knees.  She  had 
proved  him  for  three  days,  she  thought,  with  the  test  of 
acid  and  the  fire,  but  she  did  not  know  him  at  this  mo- 
ment. The  thing  that  she  had  discovered  and  recognized 
as  the  clean  white  light  of  his  inner  genius  had  been  sud- 
denly smothered.  She  could  not  understand.  His  words 
were  less  disturbing  than  his  manner,  and  his  voice  sounded 
gruff  and  unfamiliar  to  her  ears. 

She  rose  quietly  and  moved  away,  and  he  did  not 
follow  her.  He  did  not  even  turn  his  head  and  for  all 
she  knew  was  not  aware  that  she  had  gone.  This  was 
unlike  him,  for  there  had  never  been  a  moment  since  they 
had  met  when  she  could  have  questioned  his  chivalry,  his 
courtesy  or  good  manners.  Her  mind  was  troubled 
vaguely,  like  the  surface  of  a  lake  which  trembles  at  the 
distant  storm. 

A  walk  through  the  forest  soothed  her.  The  brook — 
her  brook  and  his — sang  as  musically  as  before,  the  long 
drawn  aisles  had  not  changed,  and  the  note  of  praise  still 
eweL'ed  among  the  fretted  vaults  above.  The  birds  made 

69 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


light  of  their  troubles,  too,  and  the  leaves  were  whispering 
joyously  the  last  gossip  of  the  wood.  What  they  said 
she  could  not  guess,  but  she  knew  by  the  warm  flush  that 
had  risen  to  her  cheeks  that  it  must  be  personal. 

When  she  returned  to  camp  her  arms  were  full  of 
asters  and  cardinal  flowers.  He  greeted  her  gravely,  with 
an  almost  too  elaborate  politeness. 

"  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me,"  he  begged  her.  "  I  don't 
think  I'm  quite  myself  to-day." 

"Are  you  feeling  better?"  she  questioned. 

"  Yes,  I'm  quite — quite  comfortable.  I  was  afraid 
I  had  offended  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  didn't  understand  you  for  a  moment.  That 
was  all."  She  lifted  the  flowers  so  that  he  might  see  them 
better.  "  I've  brought  these  for  our  lunch-table." 

But  he  did  not  look  at  them.  His  eyes,  still  glowing 
unfamiliarly,  sought  only  hers. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  lightly. 

"  I  want — I  want  your  friendship.  I  can't  tell  you 
how  much.  I  didn't  say  anything  that  offended  you,  did 
I?  I  felt  pretty  seedy.  Everything  seemed  to  be  slipping 
away  from  me." 

"Not  now?" 

"  Oh,  no.     I'm  all  right." 

He  took  the  flowers  from  her  arms  and  laid  them 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree.  Then  coming  forward  he  thrust 
out  both  his  hands  suddenly  and  took  her  by  the 
elbows. 

"  Jane !  "  he  cried,  "  Jane !  Look  up  into  my  eyes  ! 
I  want  you  to  see  what  you've  written  there.  Why 
haven't  you  ever  seen  it?  Why  wouldn't  you  look  and 
read?  It's  madness,  perhaps;  but  if  it's  madness,  then 
madness  is  sweet — and  all  the  world  is  mad  with  me. 

70 


THE   SHADOW 


There  isn't  any  world.  There's  nothing  but  you  and  me — 
and  Arcadia." 

She  had  turned  her  gaze  to  the  ground  and  would  not 
look  at  him  but  she  struggled  faintly  in  his  embrace.  The 
color  was  gone  from  her  cheeks  now  and  beneath  the  long 
lashes  that  swept  her  cheek — one  great  tear  trembled  and 
fell. 

"  No,  no — you  mustn't,"  she  whispered,  stifling.  "  It 
can't — it  mustn't  be.  I  don't ' 

But  he  had  seized  her  more  closely  in  his  arms  and 
shackled  her  lips  with  his  kisses. 

"  I'm  mad — I  know — but  I  want  you,  Jane.  I  love 
you — I  love  you — I  want  the  woods  to  hear " 

She  wrenched  one  arm  free  and  pushed  away,  her 
eyes  wide,  for  the  horror  of  him  had  dawned  slowly. 

"  Oh !  "  she  gasped.     "  You!  " 

As  he  seized  her  again,  she  drew  back,  mad  with  fear, 
shrunken  within  herself,  like  a  snake  in  a  thicket  coiling 
itself  to  thrust  and  then  struck  viciously. 

He  felt  the  impact  of  a  blow  full  in  the  face  and 
staggered  back  releasing  her.  And  her  accents,  sharp, 
cruel,  vicious,  clove  the  silence  like  sword-cuts. 

"  You  cad !     You  brute  !     You  utter  brute !  " 

He  came  forward  like  a  blind  man,  mumbling  incoher- 
ently, but  she  avoided  him  easily,  and  fled. 

"  Jane !  "  he  called  hoarsely.  "  Come  back  to  me, 
Jane.  Come  back  to  me !  Oh,  God !  " 

He  stumbled  and  fell;  then  rose  again,  putting  his 
hands  to  his  face  and  running  heavily  toward  the  spot 
where  she  had  vanished  into  the  bushes — the  very  spot 
where  three  days  ago  she  had  appeared  to  him.  He 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  ahead  of  him  and  blundered  on, 
calling  for  forgiveness.  There  was  no  reply  but  the  echo 
of  his  own  voice,  nor  any  glimpse  of  her.  After  that  he 

71 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


remembered  little,  except  that  he  went  on  and  on,  tripping, 
falling,  tearing  his  face  and  clothes  in  the  briars,  getting 
to  his  feet  and  going  on  again,  mad  with  the  terror  of 
losing  her — an  instinct  only,  an  animal  in  search  of  its 
wounded  mate. 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  strove  or  how  far,  but 
there  came  a  time  when  he  fell  headlong  among  some 
boulders  and  could  rise  no  more. 

That  morning  two  Indian  guides  in  search  of  a  woman 
who  had  been  lost,  met  another  Indian  at  the  headwater* 
of  a  stream,  and  together  they  followed  a  fresh  trail—- 
the trail  of  a  big  man  wearing  hob-nailed  boots  and  carry- 
ing a  burden.  In  the  afternoon  they  found  an  empty 
shack  beside  which  a  fire  was  burning.  Two  creels  hung 
side  by  side  near  the  fire  and  upon  the  limb  of  a  tree 
was  the  carcass  of  a  deer.  There  were  many  trails  into 
the  woods — some  made  by  the  feet  of  a  woman,  some  by  the 
feet  of  a  man. 

The  three  guides  sat  at  the  fire  for  awhile  and  smokec^ 
waiting. 

Then  two  of  them  got  up  and  after  examining  the 
smaller  foot-marks  silently  disappeared.  When  they  had 
gone  the  third  guide,  a  puzzled  look  on  his  face,  picked 
up  an  object  which  had  fallen  under  a  log  and  examined 
it  with  minute  interest.  Then  with  a  single  guttural  sound 
from  his  throat,  put  the  object  in  his  pocket  and  bending 
well  forward,  his  eyes  upon  the  ground,  glided  noiselessly 
through  the  underbrush  after  them. 


VII 

ALLEGRO 

A  STORM  of  wind  and  rain  had  fallen  out  of  the 
Northwest,  and  in  a  night  had  blown  seaward  the 
lingering  tokens  of  Autumn.  The  air  was  chill, 
the  sunshine  pale  as  calcium  light,  and  distant  buildings 
came  into  focus,  cleanly  cut  against  the  sparkling  sky 
at  the  northern  end  of  the  Avenue ;  jets  of  steam  appeared 
overhead  and  vanished  at  once  into  space ;  flags  quivered 
tensely  at  their  poles;  fast  flying  squadrons  of  clouds 
whirled  on  to  their  distant  rendezvous,  their  shadows  leap- 
ing skyward  along  the  sunlit  walls.  In  a  stride  Winter 
had  come.  The  city  had  taken  a  new  tempo.  The  adagio 
of  Indian  Summer  had  come  to  a  pause  in  the  night ;  and 
with  the  morning,  the  baton  of  winter  quickened  its  beat 
as  the  orchestra  of  city  sounds  swung  into  the  presto 
movement.  Upon  the  Avenue  shop-windows  bloomed  sud- 
denly with  finery;  limousines  and  broughams,  new  or  re- 
furbished, with  a  glistening  of  polished  nickel  and  brass, 
drew  up  along  the  curbs  to  discharge  their  occupants  who 
descended,  briskly  intent  on  the  business  of  the  minute, 
in  search  of  properties  and  backgrounds  for  the  winter 
drama. 

In  the  Fifth  Avenue  window  of  the  Cosmos  Club,  some 
of  the  walking  gentlemen  gathered  in  the  afternoon  and 
were  already  rehearsing  the  familiar  choruses.  All  sum- 
mer they  had  played  the  fashionable  circuit  of  house- 
parties  at  Narragansett,  Newport  and  other  brief  stands, 
and  all  recounted  the  tales  of  the  road,  glad  at  last  to 

73 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


be  back  in  their  own  corners,  using  the  old  lines,  the  old 
gestures,  the  old  cues  with  which  they  had  long  been 
familiar. 

If  its  summer  pilgrimage  had  worked  any  hardship, 
the  chorus  at  the  windows  of  the  Cosmos  Club  gave  no 
sign  of  it.  It  was  a  well-fed  chorus,  well-groomed,  well- 
tailored  and  prosperous.  Few  members  of  it  had  ever 
played  a  "  lead  "  or  wished  to ;  for  the  tribulations  of 
star-dom  were  great  and  the  rewards  uncertain,  so  they 
played  their  parts  comfortably  far  up-stage  against  the 
colorful  background. 

Colonel  Broadhurst  took  up  the  glass  which  Percy 
Endicott  had  ordered  and  regarded  it  ponderously. 

"  Pretty,  aren't  they?  "  he  asked  sententiously  of  no 
one  in  particular,  "  pretty,  innocent,  winking  bubbles ! 
Little  hopes  rising  and  bursting." 

"  Hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart  sick,"  put  in  the 
thirsty  Percy  promptly.  "  Luck,  Colonel !  "  and  drank. 

With  a  long  sigh  the  Colonel  lifted  his  glass.  "  Why 
<io  we  do  it?  "  he  asked  again.  "  There's  nothing — posi- 
tively nothing  in  it." 

"  You  never  said  a  truer  thing,"  laughed  Ogden 
Spencer,  for  the  Colonel  had  set  his  empty  glass  upon  the 
table. 

"  Oh,  for  the  days  of  sunburnt  mirth — of  youth  and 
the  joyful  Hippocrene!  "  the  Colonel  sighed  again. 

"  Write — note — Chairman — House  Committee,"  said 
Coleman  Van  Duyn,  arousing  from  slumber,  thickly, 
"  mighty  poor  stuff  here  lately." 

"  Go  back  to  sleep,  Coley,"  laughed  Spencer.  "  It's 
not  your  cue." 

Van  Duyn  lurched  heavily  forward  for  his  glass,  and 
drank  silently.  "Hippocrene?"  he  asked.  "What's 
Hippocrene?  " 

74 


ALLEGED 


"  Nectar,  my  boy,"  said  the  Colonel  pityingly,  "  the 
water  of  the  gods." 

"  Water !  "  and  with  a  groan,  "  Oh,  the  Devil !  " 

He  joined  good  naturedly  in  the  laugh  which  followed 
and  settled  back  in  his  leather  chair. 

"  Oh,  you  laugh,  you  fellows.  It's  no  joke.  Drank 
nothing  but  water  for  two  months  this  summer.  Doctors 
orders.  Drove  the  water  wagon,  /  did — two  long  months. 
Think  of  it !  "  The  retrospect  was  so  unpleasant  that 
Mr.  Van  Duyn  leaned  forward  immediately  and  laid  his 
finger  on  the  bell. 

"  Climb  off,  Coley?  "  asked  Spencer. 

"  No,  jumped,"  he  grinned.    "  Horse  ran  away." 

"  You're  looking  fit." 

"  I  am.  Got  a  new  doctor — sensible  chap,  young, 
ambitious,  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Believes  in  alcohol. 
Some  people  need  it,  you  know.  Can't  be  too  careful  in 
choice  of  doctor.  Wants  me  to  drink  Lithia  water, 
though.  What's  this  Hippo — hippo 

"  Chondriac !  "  put  in  Percy. 

"  Hippocrene,"  said  Broadhurst  severely. 

"  Sounds  like  a  parlor  car — or — er — a  skin  food.  Any 
good,  Colonel?  " 

"  No,"  said  Colonel  Broadhurst  with  another  sigh, 
"  It  wouldn't  suit  your  case,  Coley." 

A  servant  entered  silently,  took  the  orders  and  re- 
moved the  empty  glasses. 

"  Where  were  you,  Coley?  "  asked  Percy. 

"  Woods— Canada." 

"  Fishing?  " 

"  Yep — some." 

"  See  anything  of  Phil  Gallatin?  " 

"  No.  I  was  with  a  big  outfit — ten  guides,  call  'em 
servants,  if  you  like.  Air  mattresses,  cold  storage  plant, 

75 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


chef,  bottled  asparagus  tips,  Charlotte  Russe — fine  camp 
that !  " 

"Whose?" 

"  Henry  K.  Loring.     You  know — coal." 

"  Oh — I  see.     There's  a  girl,  isn't  there?  " 

"  Yes." 

Van  Duyn  reached  for  his  glass  and  lapsed  into  surly 
silence. 

But  Percy  Endicott  was  always  voluble  in  the  after- 
noon. 

"  You  didn't  hear  about  Phil?  " 

"  No— not  another " 

"  Oh,  no,  he  hasn't  touched  a  drop  for  weeks.  Got 
lost  up  there.  I  heard  the  story  at  Tuxedo  from  young 
Benson  who  just  come  down.  He  had  it  from  a  guide. 
It  seems  that  Phil  got  twisted  somehow  in  the  heart  of  the 
Kawagama  country  and  couldn't  find  his  way  back  to 
camp.  He's  not  much  of  a  woodsman — hadn't  ever  been 
up  there  before,  and  the  guide  couldn't  pick  up  his 
trail " 

"  Didn't  he  lose  his  nerve?  " 

"  Not  he.  He  couldn't,  you  see.  There  was  a  girl 
with  him." 

"  A  girl !    The  plot  thickens.    Go  on.v 

"  They  met  in  the  woods.  She  was  lost,  too,  so  Phil 
built  a  lean-to  and  they  lived  there  together.  Lucky  dog ! 
Idyllic — what?" 

"  Well,  rather !  Arcadia  to  the  minute.  But  how 
did  they  get  on?  "  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  Famously " 

"  But  they  couldn't  live  on  love." 

"  Oh,  they  fished  and  ate  berries,  and  Gallatin  shot  a 
deer." 

"  Lucky,  lucky  dog !  " 

76 


"  They'd  be  there  now,  if  the  guides  hadn't  found 
them." 

"His  guides?" 

"  Yes,  and  hers." 

"  Hers !     She  wasn't  a  native  then?  " 

"  Not  on  your  life.  A  New  Yorker — and  a  clinker. 
That's  the  mystery.  Her  guide  came  from  the  eastward 
but  her  camp  must  have  been — why,  what's  the  matter, 
Coley?  " 

Mr.  Van  Duyn  had  put  his  glass  upon  the  table  and 
had  risen  heavily  from  his  easy  chair,  his  pale  blue  eyes 
unpleasantly  prominent.  He  pulled  at  his  collar-band 
and  gasped. 

"  Heat — damn  heat !  "   and  walked  away  muttering. 

It  was  just  in  the  doorway  that  he  met  Phil  Gallatin, 
who,  with  a  smile,  was  extending  the  hand  of  fellowship. 
He  glowered  at  the  newcomer,  touched  the  extended  fingers 
flabbily  and  departed,  while  Gallatin  watched  him  go,  not 
knowing  whether  to  be  angry  or  only  amused.  But  he 
shrugged  a  shoulder  and  joined  the  group  near  the 
window. 

The  greetings  were  cordial  and  the  Colonel  motioned 
to  the  servant  to  take  Gallatin's  order. 

"  No,  thanks,  Colonel,"  said  Gallatin,  his  lips  slightly 
compressed. 

"  Really !  Glad  to  hear  it,  my  boy.  It's  a  silly 
business."  And  then  to  the  waiting-man:  "Make  mine  a 
Swissesse  this  time.  It's  ruination,  sir,  this  drinking  when 
you  don't  want  it — just  because  some  silly  ass  punches  the 
bell." 

"  But  suppose  you  do  want  it,"  laughed  Spencer. 

"  Then  all  the  more  reason  to  refuse." 

Gallatin  sank  into  the  chair  that  Van  Duyn  had  va- 
cated. These  were  his  accustomed  haunts,  these  were 

77 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


his  associates,  but  he  now  felt  ill  at  ease  and  out  of  place 
in  their  company.  He  came  here  in  the  afternoons  some- 
times, but  the  club  only  made  his  difficulties  greater.  He 
listened  silently  to  the  gossip  of  the  widening  group  of 
men,  of  somebody's  coup  down  town,  of  Larry  Kane's  trip 
to  the  Rockies,  of  the  opening  of  the  hunting  season  on 
Long  Island,  the  prospects  of  a  gay  winter  and  the  thou- 
sand and  one  happenings  that  made  up  the  life  of  the 
leisurely  group  of  men  about  him.  The  servant  brought 
the  tray  and  laid  the  glasses. 

"  Won't  change  your  mind,  Phil  ?  "  asked  Colonel 
Broadhurst  again. 

Gallatin  straightened.     "  No,  thanks,"  he  repeated. 

"  That's  right,"  laughed  the  Colonel  jovially.  "  The 
true  secret  of  drinking  is  to  drink  when  you  don't  want 
it — and  refuse  when  you  do." 

"  Gad !  Crosby,  for  a  man  who  never  refuses — "  be- 
gan Kane. 

"  It  only  shows  what  a  martyr  I  am  to  the  usages  of 
society,"  concluded  the  Colonel  with  a  chuckle. 

"  How's  the  crop  of  buds  this  year?  "  queried  Larry 
Kane. 

"  Ask  *  Bibby  '  Worthington,"  suggested  Percy  Endi- 
cott.  "  He's  got  'em  all  down,  looks,  condition,  action, 
pedigree " 

"  Bigger  than  usual,"  said  the  gentleman  appealed  to, 
"  queens,  too,  some  of  'em." 

"  And  have  you  picked  out  the  lucky  one  already  ?  " 
laughed  Spencer. 

"  Bibby  "  Worthington,  as  everybody  knew,  had  been 
"  coming  out  "  for  ten  years,  with  each  season's  crop  of 
debutantes,  and  each  season  had  offered  his  hand  and  heart 
to  the  newest  of  them. 

78 


ALLEGRO 


But  the  question  touched  his  dignity  in  more  than  one 
tender  spot,  and  he  refused  to  reply. 

"  They're  all  queens,"  sighed  the  Colonel,  raising  his 
glass.  "  I  love  'em  all,  God  bless  'em,  their  rosy  faces, 
their  round  limpid  eyes " 

"  And  the  smell  of  bread  and  jam  from  the  nursery," 
put  in  Spencer,  the  materialist,  dryly.  "  Some  new-com- 
ers, aren't  there,  Billy?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  few  Westerners." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  need  the  money,  you  know." 

The  crowd  broke  up  into  groups  of  two  and  three, 
each  with  its  own  interests.  Gallatin  rose  and  joined 
Kane  and  Endicott  at  the  window,  where  the  three  sat  for 
awhile  watching  the  endless  procession  of  vehicles  and 
pedestrians  moving  up  and  down  the  Avenue. 

"  Good  sport  in  Canada,  I  hear,  Phil,"  said  Percy  in 
a  pause  of  conversation. 

Gallatin  glanced  quickly  at  his  companion. 

"  Fishing — yes,"  he  said  quietly,  unable  to  control  the 
flush  that  had  risen  unbidden  to  his  temples.  "  No  shoot- 
ing." 

"  That's  funny,"  went  on  the  blissful  Endicott  with  a 
laugh.  "  I  heard  you  got  a  deer,  Phil." 

"  Oh,  yes,  one " 

"  A  two-legged  one — with  skirts." 

Gallatin  started — his  face  pale. 

"  Who  told  you  that?  "  he  asked,  his  jaw  setting. 

"  Oh,  don't  get  sore,  Phil.  Somebody's  brought  the 
story  down  from  Montreal — about  your  being  lost  in  the 
woods — and — and  all  that,"  he  finished  lamely.  "  Sorry 
I  butted  in." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Gallatin,  stiffly. 

Percy's  face  crimsoned,  and  he  stammered  out  an 
apology.  He  knew  he  had  made  a  mistake.  Gossip  that 

79 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


he  was,  he  did  not  make  it  a  habit  to  intrude  upon  other 
men's  personal  affairs,  especially  men  like  Gallatin  who 
were  intolerant  of  meddlers ;  but  the  story  was  now  com- 
mon property  and  to  that  extent  at  least  he  was  justified. 

"  Don't  be  unpleasant,  Phil,  there's  a  good  chap.  I 
only  thought " 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter  in  the  least,"  said  Gallatin, 
rising,  suddenly  aware  of  the  fact  that  the  whole  incident 
would  only  draw  his  adventure  into  further  notoriety. 
"  Somebody's  made  a  good  story  of  it,"  he  laughed.  "  I 
did  meet  a — a  girl  in  the  woods  and  she  stayed  at  my  camp 
until  her  guides  found  her,  that's  all.  I  don't  even  know 
who  she  was,"  he  finished  truthfully. 

Percy  Endicott  wriggled  away,  glad  to  be  let  off  so 
easily ;  and  after  a  word  with  Kane,  Gallatin  went  quietly 
out. 

He  reached  the  street  and  turning  the  corner  walked 
northward  blindly,  in  dull  resentment  against  Percy  Endi- 
cott, and  the  world  that  he  typified.  Their  story  of  his 
adventure,  it  appeared,  was  common  property,  and  was 
being  handed  with  God  knows  what  hyperbole  from  one 
chattering  group  to  another.  It  didn't  matter  about  him- 
self, of  course.  He  realized  grimly  that  this  was  not  the 
first  time  his  name  had  played  shuttlecock  to  the  fashion- 
able battledore.  It  was  of  her  he  was  thinking — of  Jane. 
Thank  God,  they  hadn't  found  a  name  to  couple  with  his. 
What  they  were  telling  was  doubtless  bad  enough  without 
that,  and  the  mere  fact  that  his  secret  was  known  had 
already  taken  away  some  of  the  idyllic  quality  with  which 
he  had  invested  it.  He  knew  what  fellows  like  Ogden 
Spencer  and  Larry  Kane  were  saying.  Had  he  not  him- 
self in  times  past  assisted  at  the  post  mortems  of  dead 
reputations,  and  wielded  his  scalpel  with  as  lively  a  skill 
as  the  rest  of  them? 

80 


ALLEGRO 


Two  months  had  passed  since  that  day  in  the  woods 
when  he  had  lost  her,  but  there  wasn't  a  day  of  that  time 
when  he  had  not  hoped  that  some  miracle  would  bring 
them  together  again.  In  Canada  he  had  made  inquiries 
at  the  camps  he  had  passed,  and  poor  Joe  Keegon,  who 
had  spent  a  day  with  her  guides,  had  come  in  for  his 
share  of  recrimination.  The  party  had  come  from  the 
eastward,  and  had  made  a  permanent  camp;  there  were 
many  people  and  many  guides,  but  no  names  had  passed. 
Joe  Keegon  was  not  in  the  habit  of  asking  needless  ques- 
tions. 

One  thing  alone  that  had  belonged  to  her  remained 
to  Gallatin — a  small  gold  flask  which  bore,  upon  its  sur- 
face in  delicate  script,  the  letters  J.L.  On  the  day  that 
they  had  broken  camp  Joe  Keegon  had  silently  handed  it 
to  him,  his  face  more  masklike  than  ever.  Gallatin  had 
thrust  it  into  his  coat-pocket  with  an  air  of  indifference 
he  was  far  from  feeling,  and  had  brought  it  southward 
to  New  York,  where  it  now  stood  upon  the  desk  in  the 
room  of  his  boyhood,  so  that  he  could  see  it  each  day, 
the  token  of  a  great  happiness — the  symbol  of  an  ineffable 
disgrace. 

It  seemed  now  that  Gallatin  had  not  needed  that  re- 
minder, for  since  he  had  been  back  in  the  city  he  had  been, 
working  hard.  It  surprised  him  what  few  avenues  of 
escape  were  open  to  him,  for  when  he  went  abroad  and  did 
the  things  he  had  always  done,  there  at  his  elbow  was  the 
Bowl.  But  his  resolution  was  still  unshaken,  and  difficult 
as  he  found  the  task,  he  went  the  round  of  his  clubs  at  the 
usual  hours  and  joined  perfunctorily  in  the  conversation. 
Always  companionable,  his  fellows  now  found  him  reticent, 
more  reserved  and  less  prone  to  make  engagements.  Bridge 
he  had  foresworn  and  the  card  room  at  the  Cosmos  saw 
him  no  more.  He  stopped  in  at  the  club  on  the  way 

81 


home  as  he  had  done  to-day,  sometimes  leaving  his  asso- 
ciates with  an  abruptness  which  caused  comment. 

But  already  he  was  finding  the  trial  he  had  set  for  him- 
self less  difficult;  and  as  the  habit  of  resistance  grew  on 
him,  he  realized  that  little  by  little  he  was  drifting  away 
from  the  associations  which  had  always  meant  so  much 
to  him.  He  had  not  given  up  the  hope  of  finding  Jane. 
From  a  chance  phrase,  which  he  had  treasured,  he  knew 
that  New  York  was  familiar  to  her  and  that  some  day 
he  would  see  her.  He  was  as  sure  of  that  as  though  Jane 
herself  had  promised  it  to  him.  She  owed  him  nothing, 
of  course,  for  in  the  hour  of  his  madness  he  had  thrown 
away  the  small  claims  he  had  upon  her  gratitude,  and 
the  only  memory  she  could  have  of  him  was  that  which 
had  been  expressed  in  the  look  of  fear  and  loathing  he  had 
last  seen  in  her  eyes.  To  her,  of  course,  time  and  dis- 
tance had  only  magnified  that  horror  and  he  knew  that 
when  he  met  her,  there  was  little  to  expect  from  her 
generosity,  little  that  he  would  even  dare  ask  of  it  except 
that  she  would  listen  while  he  told  her  of  the  enemy  in  his 
house  and  of  the  battle  that  was  still  raging  in  his  heart. 
He  wanted  her  to  know  about  that.  It  was  his  right  to 
tell  her,  not  so  much  to  clear  himself  of  blame,  as  to  justify 
her  for  the  liberality  of  her  confidence  before  the  tide 
of  battle  had  turned  against  him — against  them  both. 

Time  and  distance  had  played  strange  tricks  with 
Jane's  image  and  at  times  it  seemed  very  difficult  for  Gal- 
latin  to  reconstruct  the  picture  which  he  had  destroyed. 
Sometimes  she  appeared  a  Dryad,  as  when  he  had  first 
seen  her,  running  frightened  through  the  wood,  some- 
times the  forlorn  child  with  the  injured  ankle,  sometimes 
the  cliff-woman;  but  most  often  he  pictured  her  as  when 
he  had  seen  her  last,  running  in  terror  and  dismay  from 
the  sight  of  him.  And  the  other  Jane,  the  Jane  that  he 

82 


ALLEGED ^^^^ 

knew  best,  was  hidden  behind  the  eyes  of  terror.  The 
memory  was  so  vague  that  he  sometimes  wondered  whether 
he  would  even  know  her  if  he  met  her  dressed  in  the  mode 
of  the  city.  Somehow  he  could  not  associate  her  with  the 
thought  of  fashionable  clothes.  She  had  worn  no  hat 
nor  had  she  needed  one.  She  belonged  to  the  deep  woods, 
where  dress  means  only  warmth  and  art  means  only  arti- 
ficiality. He  always  thought  of  her  hatless,  in  her  tat- 
tered shirtwaist  and  skirt,  and  upon  Fifth  Avenue  was  as 
much  at  a  loss  as  to  the  kind  of  figure  he  must  look  for 
as  though  he  were  in  the  land  of  the  great  Cham. 

Yes,  he  would  know  her,  her  slender  figure,  her  straight 
carriage,  the  poise  of  her  head,  her  brown  hair,  her  deep 
blue  eyes.  No  fripperies  could  conceal  them.  These 
were  Jane.  He  would  know  them  anywhere. 


83 


VIII 

CHICOT,    THE   JESTER 

PHILIP  GALLATIN  had  been  mistaken.  He  did 
not  know  Jane  when  he  saw  her.  For,  ten  minutes 
later,  he  met  her  face  to  face  in  one  of  the  paths 
of  the  Park — looked  her  in  the  face  and  passed  on  un- 
knowing. Like  the  hound  in  the  fable,  he  was  so  intent 
upon  the  reflection  in  the  pool  that  he  let  slip  the  sub- 
stance. He  was  conscious  that  a  girl  had  passed  him 
going  in  the  opposite  direction,  a  girl  dressed  in  a  dark 
gray  tailor-made  suit,  with  a  fur  at  her  neck  and  a  dark 
muff  swinging  in  one  hand — a  slender  girl  beside  whom  two 
French  poodles  frisked  and  scampered,  a  handsome  girl 
in  fashionable  attire,  taking  her  dogs  for  an  airing.  He 
walked  on  and  sat  down  on  a  bench  which  overlooked  the 
lake.  The  sun  had  fallen  below  the  Jersey  hills  and  only 
the  tops  of  the  tall  buildings  to  the  eastward  held  its  dy- 
ing glow.  The  lawns  were  swathed  in  shadow  and  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  already  half  denuded  of  their  foli- 
age, emerged  in  solemn  silhouette  like  a  pattern  of  Irish 
lace  against  the  purpling  sky.  A  hush  had  suddenly  fal- 
len on  the  distant  traffic  and  Gallatin  was  alone. 

Out  of  the  half-light  an  inky  figure  came  bounding 
up  to  him  and  sniffed  eagerly  at  his  knees.  It  was  a 
black  poodle.  Gallatin  patted  the  dog  encouragingly, 
upon  which  it  whined,  put  its  paws  on  his  lap  and  looked 
up  into  his  face. 

"  Too  bad,  old  man,"  he  said.     "  Lost,  aren't  you?  "N 
Then,  as  the  memory  came  to  him,  "  By  George,  your  mis- 

84 


CHICOT,   THE   JESTER 


tress  will  be  hunting.  I  wonder  if  we  can  find  her."  He 
turned  the  nickel  collar  in  his  fingers  and  examined  the 
name-plate.  There  in  script  was  the  name  of  the  owner, 
and  an  address.  Gallatin  thrust  the  crook  of  his  stick 
through  the  dog's  collar  and  rose.  He  must  find  Miss 
Jane  Loring  or  return  the  animal  to  its  home.  Jane  Lor- 
ing?  Jane — ? 

He  stopped,  bent  over  the  excited  dog  and  looked  at 
the  name  plate  again.  Jane  Loring — "  J.  L."  Why — it 
was  Jane's  dog!  He  had  passed  her  a  moment  ago — 
here — in  the  park.  More  perturbed  even  than  the  wrig- 
gling poodle,  he  rose  and  hurried  along  the  path  down 
which  he  had  come.  There  could  be  no  mistake.  Of 
course,  it  was  Jane !  There  was  no  possible  doubt  about 
it !  That  blessed  poodle ! 

"Hi!  there!  Let  up,  will  you?"  he  cried,  as  the 
!dog  twisted  and  squirmed  away  from  him.  A  whistle 
had  sounded  shrilly  upon  Gallatin's  left  and  before  he 
knew  it  the  dog  had  escaped  him  and  was  dashing  hotfoot 
through  the  leaves  toward  the  spot  where  a  dark  figure 
with  another  dog  on  a  leash  was  rapidly  moving. 

Gallatin  followed  briskly  and  came  up  a  moment  later, 
in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  of  reunion  and  reconcilia- 
tion. 

"  Down,  Chicot,  down,  I  say,"  the  girl  was  command- 
ing. "  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  to  be  giving  so 
much  trouble !  "  And  as  Gallatin  approached,  breath- 
lessly, hat  in  hand,  "  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged.  I  ought 
to  have  had  him  in  leash.  He's  only  a  puppy  and — " 
She  stopped,  mouth  open,  eyes  wide  as  she  recognized  him. 
He  saw  the  look  she  gave  him  and  bowed  his  head. 

"  Jane !  "  he  said,  humbly.     "  Jane !  " 

The  dogs  were  leaping  around  them  both  and  Chicot 

85 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


was  biting  joyously  at  his  gloved  hand,  but  Miss  Loring 
had  drawn  back. 

"You!"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  softly.     "  I — I'm  so  glad  to  see  you." 

He  held  his  hand  before  him  as  though  to  parry  ari 
expected  blow. 

"  Don't,"  he  muttered.  "  Give  me  a  chance.  There's 
so  much  I've  got  to  say, — so  much " 

"  There's  nothing  for  you  to  say,"  she  said  decisively. 
"  If  you'll  excuse  me — I — I  must  be  going  at  once." 

She  turned  away  quickly,  but  the  dogs  were  putting 
her  dignity  in  jeopardy  for  the  puppy  still  nosed  Galla- 
tin's  hand  and  showed  a  determination  to  linger  for  his 
caress. 

"  You've  got  to  listen,"  he  murmured.  "  I'm  not  going 
to  lose  you  again " 

"  Come,  Chicot,"  said  the  girl  in  a  voice  which  was 
meant  to  be  peremptory,  but  which  sounded  curiously  in- 
effective. Chicot  would  not  go  until  Gallatin  caught  him 
by  the  collar  and  followed. 

"  You  see,"  he  laughed,  "  you've  got  to  stand  for  me 
— or  lose  the  puppy." 

But  Miss  Loring  had  turned  abruptly  and  was  moving 
rapidly  toward  the  distant  Avenue.  Gallatin  put  on  his 
hat  and  walked  at  her  side. 

"  I  want  you  to  know — how  it  all  happened  to  me — • 
up  there  in  the  woods,"  he  muttered,  through  set  lips. 
"  It's  only  justice  to  me — and  to  you." 

"  Will  you  please  leave  me ! "  she  said,  in  a  stifled 
voice,  her  head  stiffly  set,  her  eyes  looking  straight  down 
the  path  before  her. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  more  calmly.  ,\._"  I'm  not  going  to 
leave  you.'* 

"  Oh,  that  you^would  dare!  "  > 

86 


CHICOT,    THE   JESTER 


"  Don't,  Jane !  "  he  pleaded.  "  Can't  you  see  that 
I've  got  to  go  with  you  whether " 

"  My  name  is  Loring,"  she  interrupted  coldly,  strongly 
accenting  the  word. 

"  Won't  you  listen  to  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  entirely  at  your  mercy — unfortunately.  I've 
always  thought  that  a  girl  was  safe  from  intrusion  here 
in  the  Park." 

"  Don't  call  it  that.  I'll  go  in  a  moment,  if  you'll 
only  hear  what  I've  got  to  say." 

"  You'd  offer  an  apology  for — for  that!  "  She  could 
not  find  a  tone  that  suited  her  scorn  of  him. 

"  No — not  apology,"  he  said  steadily.  "  One  doesn't 
apologize  for  the  things  beyond  one's  power  to  prevent. 
It's  the  miserere,  Jane — the  de  profundis " 

"  It  comes  too  late,"  she  said,  but  she  stole  a  glance 
at  him  in  spite  of  herself.  His  head  bent  slightly  forward, 
he  was  gazing,  under  lowered  brows  directly  before  him 
into  the  falling  dusk.  She  remembered  that  look.  He 
had  worn  it  when  he  had  sat  by  their  camp-fire  the  night 
they  had  heard  the  voices. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  went  on  slowly.  "  Too  late  for 
you  to  understand — too  late  to  help,  and  yet " 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  go  on,"  she  broke  in  quickly, 
"  It  can  do  no  good." 

"  I  must  go  on.  I've  got  so  much  to  say  and  such  a 
little  time  to  say  it  in.  Perhaps,  I  won't  see  you  again. 
At  least  I  won't  see  you  unless  you  wish  it." 

"  Then  you'll  not  see  me  again." 

He  turned  his  head  and  examined  her  soberly. 

"  That,  of  course,  is  your  privilege.  Don't  be  too 
hard,  if  you  can  help  it.  Try  and  remember  me,  if  you 
can,  as  I  was  before " 

"  I  shall  not  remember  you  at  all,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

87 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


He  started  as  she  spoke  his  name.     "  You  knew?  " 

"  Yes,  I  knew.  x  You — your  name  was  familiar  to 
me." 

"  You  mean  that  you  had  heard  of  me?  "  he  asked  won- 
deringly. 

She  knew  that  she  had  said  too  much,  but  she  went  on 
coldly. 

"  In  New  York  one  hears  of  Philip  Gallatin.  I  knew 
— there  in  the  woods.  I  discovered  your  name  by  acci- 
dent— upon  your  letters." 

She  spoke  shortly — hesitantly,  as  if  every  word  was 
wrung  from  her  by  an  effort  of  will. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  "  and  what  you  heard  of  me — was  not 
good?" 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  It  was  not  good.  But  I  had 
known  you  two  days  then,  and  I — I  thought  there  must 
— have  been  some  mistake — until — "  she  broke  off  passion- 
ately. "  Oh,  what  is  the  use  of  all  this  ?  "  she  gasped. 
"  It's  lowering  to  your  pride  and  to  mine.  If  I  have 
said  more  than  I  meant  to  say,  it  is  because  I  want  you 
to  know  why  I  never  want  to  see  you — to  hear  of  you 
again." 

He  bowed  his  head  beneath  the  storm.  He  deserved  it, 
he  knew,  and  there  was  even  a  bitter  pleasure  in  his  retri- 
bution, for  her  indifference  had  been  hardest  to  bear. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  will  go  in  a 
moment.  But  first  I  mean  that  you  shall  hear  what  I  have 
to  say." 

She  remembered  that  tone  of  command.  He  had  used 
it  when  he  had  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  help- 
less to  his  camp-fire.  The  memory  of  it  shamed  her,  as 
his  presence  did  now,  and  she  walked  on  more  rapidly. 
Their  path  had  been  deserted,  but  they  were  now  ap- 
proaching the  Avenue  where  the  hurrying  pedestrians  and 

88 


CHICOT,    THE   JESTER 


vehicles  proclaimed  the  end  of  privacy.  A  deserted  bench 
was  before  them. 

"  Please  stop  here  a  moment,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  won't 
keep  you  long."  And  when  she  would  have  gone  on  he 
laid  a  hand  on  her  arm.  "  You  must !  "  he  insisted  pas- 
sionately. "  You've  got  to,  Jane.  You'll  do  me  a  great 
wrong  if  you  don't.  I've  kept  the  faith  with  you  since 
then — since  I  was  mad  there  in  the  wilderness.  You 
didn't  know  or  care,  but  I've  kept  the  faith — the  good 
you've  done — don't  undo  it  now." 

A  passer-by  was  regarding  them  curiously  and  so 
she  sat,  for  Gallatin's  look  compelled  her.  She  did  not 
understand  what  he  meant,  and  in  her  heart  she  knew  she 
could  not  care  whose  faith  he  kept,  or  why,  but  she  recog- 
nized in  his  voice  the  note  of  a  deep  emotion,  and  was 
conscious  of  its  echo  in  her  own  spirit.  Outwardly  she 
was  as  disdainful  as  before,  and  her  silence,  while  it  gave 
him  consent,  was  anything  but  encouraging.  As  he  sat 
down  beside  her  the  puppy,  "Chicot,"  put  his  head  upon 
Gallatin's  knees  and  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  so  Gallatin 
put  his  hand  on  the  dog's  head  and  kept  it  there. 

"  I  want  you  to  know  something  about  my  people — 
about — the  Gallatins " 

'*  I  know  enough,  I  think." 

"  No — you're  mistaken.  We  are  not  all  that  you 
think  we  are.  Let  me  go  on,"  calmly.  "  The  Gallatins 
have  always  stood  for  truth  of  speech  and  honesty  of 
purpose,  and  whatever  their  failings  they  have  all  been 
called  honorable  men.  Upon  the  Bench,  at  the  Bar,  in 
the  Executive  chair,  no  word  has  ever  been  breathed 
against  their  professional  integrity  or  their  civic  pride. 
My  great  grandfather  was  a  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States,  my  grandfather  a  Governor  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  my  father " 

89 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Miss  Loring  made  a  gesture  of  protest. 

"  Wait,"  he  insisted.  "  My  father  was  a  great  lawyer 
• — one  of  the  greatest  this  City  and  State  have  ever  known 
— and  yet  all  of  these  men,  mental  giants  of  their  day  and 
generation — had — had  a  weakness — the  same  weakness — 
the  weakness  that  I  have.  To  one  of  them  it  meant  the 
loss  of  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  loved — his  wife  and 
his  children ;  to  another  the  sacrifice  of  his  highest  polit- 
ical ambition ;  to  my  father  a  lingering  illness  of  which  he 
subsequently  died.  That  is  my  pedigree — of  great  honor 
— and  greater  shame.  History  has  dealt  kindly  because 
their  faults  were  those  of  their  blood  and  race,  for  which 
they  themselves  were  not  accountable.  This  may  seem 
strange  to  you  because  you  have  only  learned  to  judge 
men  by  their  performances.  The  phenomenon  of  heredity 
is  new  to  you.  People  are  taught  to  see  the  physical  re- 
semblances of  the  members  of  a  family  to  its  ancestors — 
but  of  the  spiritual  resemblance  one  knows  nothing — un- 
less— "  his  voice  sunk  until  it  was  scarcely  audible,  "  un- 
less the  spiritual  resemblance  is  so  strong  that  even  Time 
itself  cannot  efface  it." 

The  girl  did  not  speak.  Her  head  was  bowed  but  her 
chin  was  still  set  firmly,  and  her  eyes,  though  they  looked 
afar,  were  stern  and  unyielding. 

"  When  I  went  to  the  woods,  I  was — was  recovering — 
from  an  illness.  I  went  up  there  at  the  doctor's  orders. 
I  had  to  go,  and  I — I  got  better  after  a  while.  Then  you 
came,  and  I  learned  that  there  was  something  else  in  life 
besides  what  I  had  found  in  it.  I  had  never  known " 

"  I  can't  see  why  I  should  listen  to  this,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  Because  what  happened  after  that,  you  were  a  part 
of." 

«  2?  " 

"  It  was  you  who  showed  me  how  to  be  well.  That's 

90 


CHICOT,   THE   JESTER 


all,"  he  finished  quietly.  He  rubbed  the  dog's  ears  be- 
tween his  fingers  and  got  some  comfort  from  Chicot's 
sympathy,  but  went  on  in  a  constrained  voice.  "  I  was 
hoping  you  might  understand,  that  you  might  give  me 
charity — if  only  the  charity  you  once  gave  to  the  carcass 
of  a  dead  deer." 

There  was  a  long  silence  during  which  he  watched  her 
downcast  profile,  but  when  at  last  she  lifted  her  head,  he 
knew  that  she  was  still  unyielding. 

"  You  ask  too  much,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  she  said  constrain- 
edly. "  If  you  were  dead  you  might  have  my  pity — even 
my  tears,  but  living — living  I  can  only — only  hold  you  in 
• — abhorrence." 

She  rose  from  the  bench  quickly  and  shortened  in  the 
leashes  of  her  dogs. 

"  You — you  dislike  me  so  much  as  that  ?  "  he  asked 
dully. 

"  Dislike  and — and  fear  you,  Mr.  Gallatin.  If  you'll 
excuse  me " 

She  turned  away  and  Gallatin  started  up.  Dusk  had 
fallen  and  they  were  quite  alone. 

"  I  can't  let  you  go  like  this,"  he  whispered,  standing 
in  front  of  her  so  that  she  could  not  pass  him.  "  I  can't. 
You  mean  that  you  fear  me  because  of  what — happened — 
My  God!  Haven't  I  proved  to  you  that  it  was  madness, 
the  madness  of  the  Gallatin  blood,  which  strikes  at  the 
happiness  of  those  it  loves  the  best?  I  love  you,  Jane. 
It's  true.  Night  and  day " 

"  You've  told  me  that  before,"  she  broke  in  fearlessly. 
"  Must  you  insult  me  again.  For  shame !  Let  me  pass, 
please." 

It  was  the  assurance  of  utter  contempt.  Gallatin 
bowed  his  head  and  drew  aside.  There  was  nothing  left 
to  do. 

91 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


He  stood  there  in  the  dusk,  his  head  uncovered,  and 
watched  her  slender  figure  as  it  merged  into  the  darkness. 
Only  the  dog,  Chicot,  stopped,  struggling,  at  his  leash, 
but  its  mistress  moved  on  hurriedly  without  even  turning 
her  head  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd  upon  the  street.  Gal- 
latin  lingered  a  moment  longer  immovable  and  then  turned 
slowly  and  walked  into  the  depths  of  the  Park,  his  face 
pale,  his  dark  eyes  staring  like  those  of  a  blind  man. 

Night  had  fallen  swiftly,  but  not  more  swiftly  than  the 
shadows  on  his  spirit,  among  which  he  groped  vaguely 
for  the  elements  that  had  supported  him.  He  crept  into 
the  night  like  a  stricken  thing,  his  feet  instinctively 
guiding  him  away  from  the  moving  tide  of  his  fellow-beings 
— one  of  whom  had  just  denied  him  charity — without 
which  his  own  reviving  faith  in  himself  was  again  in 
jeopardy.  For  two  months  he  had  fought  his  battle 
silently  with  her  image  in  his  mind — the  image  of  a  girl 
who  had  once  given  him  faith  and  friendship,  whose  fingers 
had  soothed  him  in  fever,  and  whose  eyes  had  been  dark 
with  compassion — the  girl  who  had  taught  him  the  uses 
of  responsibility  and  the  glorification  of  the  labor  of  his 
hands.  That  silent  battle  had  magnified  the  image,  vested 
it  with  sovereign  rights,  given  it  the  gentle  strength  by 
which  he  had  conjured,  and  he  had  fought  joyfully,  with 
a  new  belief  in  his  own  destiny,  a  real  delight  in  conquest. 
His  heart  glowed  with  a  dull  wrath.  Was  it  nothing  that 
he  had  come  to  her  clean-handed  again?  The  image  that 
he  had  conjured  was  fading  in  the  sullen  glow  in  the  West 
out  of  which  she  had  come  to  him.  Was  this  Jane  ?  The 
Jane  he  knew  had  sorrowed  with  the  falling  of  a  bird, 
mourned  the  killing  of  a  squirrel  and  wept  over  the  glazed 
eyes  of  a  dead  deer.  Was  this  Jane?  This  disdainful 
woman  with  the  modish  hat  and  cold  blue  eye,  this  scorn- 

92 


CHICOT,   THE  JESTER 


ful  daughter  of  convention  who  sneered  at  sin  and  mocked 
at  the  tokens  of  repentance? 

The  image  was  gone  from  his  shrine,  and  in  its  place 
a  Nemesis  sat  enthroned — a  Nemesis  in  dark  gray  who 
looked  at  him  with  the  eyes  of  contempt  and  who  called 
herself  Miss  Loring.  He  was  resentful  of  her  name  as 
at  an  intrusion.  It  typified  the  pedantry  of  the  con- 
ventional and  commonplace. 

The  arc  lamps  died  and  flared,  their  shadows  leaping 
like  gnomes  in  and  out  of  the  obscurity.  High  in  the  air, 
lights  punctured  the  darkness  where  the  hotels  loomed. 
Beside  him  on  the  drive  gay  turnouts  hurried.  The  roar 
of  the  city  came  nearer.  Arcadia  was  not  even  a  memory. 

The  Pride  of  the  Gallatins  was  a  sorry  thing  that 
night.  This  Gallatin  had  bared  it  frankly,  torn  away  its 
rugged  coverings,  that  a  woman  might  see  and  know 
him  for  what  he  was — the  best  and  the  worst  of  him. 
Even  now  he  did  .lot  regret  it ;  for  bitter  as  the  retribution 
had  been,  he  knew  that  he  had  owed  her  that  candor,  for 
it  was  a  part  of  the  lesson  he  had  learned  with  Jane — • 
the  other  Jane — among  the  woods.  This  Jane  remem- 
bered not;  for  she  had  struck  and  had  not  spared  him, 
and  each  stinging  phrase  still  pierced  and  quivered  in  the 
wound  that  it  had  made. 

Out  of  the  blackness  of  his  thoughts  reason  came 
slowly.  It  was  her  right,  of  course,  to  deny  him  the  priv- 
ileges of  her  regard — the  rights  of  fellowship — this  he 
had  deserved  and  had  expected,  but  the  carelessness  of 
her  contempt  had  been  hard  to  bear.  Mockery  he  had 
known  in  women,  and  intolerance,  but  no  one  of  his  blood 
had  ever  brooked  contempt.  His  cheeks  burned  with  the 
sudden  flush  of  anger  and  his  hand  upon  his  stick  grew 
rigid.  A  man  might  pay  for  such  a  thing  as  that —  but  a 
girl! 

93 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


His  muscles  relaxed  and  he  laughed  outright.  A  snip 
of  a  girl  that  he'd  kissed  in  the  woods,  who  now  came  out 
dressed  in  broadcloth  and  sanctimony!  How  should  it 
matter  what  she  thought  of  him?  Absurd  little  Puritan! 
Girls  had  been  kissed  before  and  had  lived  to  be  merry 
over  it.  He  was  a  fool  to  have  built  this  enchanted  fabric 
into  his  brain,  this  castle  of  Micomicon  which  swayed  and 
toppled  about  his  ears.  Miss  Loring,  forsooth ! 

He  took  out  his  cigarette  case  in  leisurely  fashion 
and  struck  a  match,  and  its  reflection  sparkled  gayly  in  his 
eyes.  He  inhaled  deeply  and  bent  his  steps  toward  the 
nearest  lights  beyond  the  trees. 


IX 

THE   LORINGS 

i 

THE  house  of  Henry  K.  Loring,  Captain  of  Industry 
and  patron  saint  of  one  or  more  great  businesses, 
was  situated  on  that  part  of  Central  Park  East 
which  Colonel  Van  Duyn  called  Mammon's  Mile.  The 
land  upon  which  it  was  built  was  more  valuable  even  than 
the  sands  of  Pactolus ;  and  the  architect,  keenly  conscious 
of  his  obligations  to  the  earth  which  supported  this  last 
monument  to  his  genius,  had  let  no  opportunity  slip  by 
which  would  make  the  building  more  expensive  for  its 
owner.  Column,  frieze,  capital  and  entablature,  all  bore 
the  tokens  of  his  playful  imagination,  and  the  hipped  roof 
which  climbed  high  above  its  neighbors,  ended  in  a  riot 
of  finial  and  coping,  as  though  the  architect  nearing  the 
end  of  his  phantasy  (and  his  commission)  had  crowded 
into  the  few  short  moments  which  remained  to  him  all  the 
ornament  that  had  been  forbidden  him  elsewhere.  The 
edifice  had  reached  the  distinction  of  notice  by  the  con- 
ductors of  the  "  rubber-neck  "  busses  on  the  Avenue  and 
of  the  reproach  of  Percy  Endicott,  whose  scurrilous  com- 
ment that  "  it  contained  all  of  the  fifty-seven  varieties  " 
had  now  become  a  by-word  down  town. 

But  the  lofty  hall  and  drawing-room  of  the  house 
failed  to  fulfill  the  dire  prediction  of  its  ornate  exterior, 
for  here  the  architect,  as  though  with  a  sudden  awakening 
of  the  artistic  conscience,  had  developed  a  simple  scheme 
in  an  accepted  design  which  somewhat  atoned  for  his 
previous  prodigality.  A  portrait  of  the  master  of  the 

95 


house,  by  an  eminent  Englishman,  hung  in  the  hall,  and 
in  the  drawing-room  were  other  paintings  of  wife  and 
daughter,  by  Americans  and  Frenchmen,  almost,  if  not 
equally,  eminent.  The  continent  of  Europe  had  been  ex- 
plored in  search  of  tapestries  and  ornaments  for  the 
house  of  this  new  prince  of  finance,  and  evidences  of  rare 
discrimination  were  apparent  at  every  hand.  And  yet 
with  all  its  splendor,  the  house  lacked  an  identity  and  an 
ego.  It  was  too  sophisticated.  Each  object  of  art, 
beautiful  in  itself,  spoke  of  a  different  taste — a  taste 
which  had  been  bought  and  paid  for.  It  was  like  a 
museum  which  one  enters  with  interest  but  without  emo- 
tion. It  was  a  house  without  a  soul. 

It  was  toward  this  splendid  mausoleum  that  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  house  made  her  way  after  her  meeting  with  Mr. 
Gallatin  in  the  Park.  After  one  quick  look  over  her 
shoulder  in  the  direction  from  which  she  had  come,  she 
walked  up  the  driveway  hurriedly  and  rang  the  bell,  enter- 
ing the  glass  vestibule,  from  which,  while  she  waited  for 
the  door  to  be  opened,  she  peered  furtively  forth.  A  man 
in  livery  took  the  leashes  of  the  poodles  from  her  hand 
and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

"  Has  Mother  come  in,  Hastings  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Loring.    She  has  been  asking  for  you." 

Miss  Loring  climbed  the  marble  stairway  that  led  to 
the  second  floor,  but  before  she  reached  the  landing,  a 
voice  sounded  in  her  ears,  a  thin  voice  pitched  in  a  high 
key  of  nervous  tension. 

"  Jane !  Where  have  you  been  ?  Don't  you  know 
that  we're  going  to  the  theatre  with  the  Dorsey-Martin's 
to-night?  Madame  Thiebout  has  been  waiting  for  you 
for  at  least  an  hour.  What  has  kept  you  so  long?  " 

"  I  was  walking,  Mother,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  have  a 
headache.  I — I'm  not  going  to-night." 

96 


THE   LORINGS 


Mrs.  Loring's  hands  flew  up  in  horrified  protest. 
"  There !  "  she  cried.  "  I  knew  it.  If  it  hadn't  been  a 
headache,  it  would  have  been  something  else.  It's  absurd, 
child.  Why,  we  must  go.  You  know  how  important  it 
is  for  us  to  keep  in  with  the  Dorsey-Martins.  It's  the 
first  time  they've  asked  us  to  anything,  and  it  means  so 
much  in  every  way." 

Miss  Loring  by  this  time  had  walked  toward  the  door 
of  her  own  room,  for  her  mother's  voice  when  raised,  was 
easily  heard  in  every  part  of  the  big  house. 

"  I'm  not  going  out  to-night,  Mother,"  she  repeated 
quietly,  shutting  the  door  behind  them. 

"  Jane,"  Mrs.  Loring  cried  petulantly.  "  Mrs.  Dor- 
sey-Martin  is  counting  on  you.  She's  asked  some  people 
especially  to  meet  you — the  Perrines,  the  Endicotts,  and 
Mr.  Van  Duyn,  and  you  know  how  much  lie  will  be  dis- 
appointed. Lie  down  on  the  couch  for  a  moment,  and 
take  something  for  your  nerves.  You'll  feel  better  soon, 
that's  a  dear  girl." 

The  unhappy  lady  put  her  arm  around  her  daughter's 
waist  and  led  her  toward  the  divan. 

"  I  knew  you  would,  Jane  dear.  There.  You've  got 
so  much  good  sense " 

Miss  Loring  sank  listlessly  on  the  couch,  her  gaze 
fixed  on  the  flowered  hangings  at  her  windows.  Her  body 
had  yielded  to  her  mother's  insistence,  but  her  thoughts 
were  elsewhere.  But  as  Mrs.  Loring  moved  toward  the 
bell  to  call  the  maid,  her  daughter  stopped  her  with  a 
gesture. 

"  It  isn't  any  use,  Mother.  I'm  not  going,"  she  said 
wearily. 

The  older  woman  stopped  and  looked  at  her  daughter 
aghast. 

"  You  really  mean  it,  Jane !  You  ungrateful  girl ! 

97 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


I've  always  said  that  you  were  eccentric,  but  you're 
obstinate,  too,  and  self-willed.  A  headache !  "  scornfully. 
"  Why,  last  year  I  went  to  the  opera  in  Mrs.  Poultney's 
box  when  I  thought  I  should  die  at  any  moment !  I  don't 
believe  you  have  a  headache.  You're  lying  to  me — hiding 
inside  yourself  the  way  you  always  do  when  I  want  your 
help  and  sympathy  most.  I  don't  understand  you  at  all. 
You're  no  daughter  of  mine.  When  I'm  trying  so  hard 
to  give  you  your  proper  place  in  the  world,  to  have  you 
meet  the  people  who  will  do  us  the  most  good!  It's  a 
shame,  I  tell  you,  to  treat  me  so.  Why  did  I  bring  you 
up  with  so  much  care?  See  that  your  associates  out 
home  should  be  what  I  thought  proper  for  a  girl  with  the 
future  that  your  father  was  making  for  you?  Why  did 
I  take  you  abroad  and  give  you  all  the  advantages  of 
European  training  and  culture?  Have  you  taught  music 
and  French  and  art?  For  this?  To  find  that  your  only 
pleasure  is  in  books  and  walks  in  the  Park — and  in  the 
occasional  visits  of  the  friends  of  your  youth  whom  you 
should  long  since  have  outgrown?  It's  an  outrage  to 
treat  me  so — an  outrage !  " 

Unable  longer  to  control  the  violence  of  her  emotions, 
the  poor  woman  sank  into  a  chair  and  burst  into  tears. 
Miss  Loring  rose  slowly  and  put  her  arms  around  her 
mother's  shoulders. 

"Don't,  Mother!"  she  said  softly.  "You  mustn't 
cry  about  me.  I'm  not  really  as  bad  as  you  think  I  am. 
I'm  not  worth  bothering  about,  though.  But  what  does 
it  matter — this  time?  " 

"  It — it's  always — this  time,"  she  wept. 

"  No — I'll  go  anywhere  you  like,  but  not  to-night. 
I  do  feel  badly.  I  really  do.  I — I'm  not  quite  up  to 
seeing  a  lot  of  people.  Don't  cry,  dear.  You  know  it 
will  make  your  eyes  red." 

98 


THE   LORINGS 


Mrs.  Loring  set  up  quickly  and  touched  her  eyes  with 
her  handkerchief. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  know  it  does.  I  don't  see  how  you  can 
hurt  me  so.  I  suppose  my  complexion  is  ruined  and  I'll 
look  like  an  old  hag.  It's  a  pity!  Just  after  Thiebout 
had  taken  such  pains  with  me,  too." 

"  Oh,  no,  Mother,  you're  all  right.  You  always  did 
look  younger  than  I  do — and  besides  you  light  up  so,  at 
night." 

Mrs.  Loring  rose  and  examined  her  face  in  a  mirror. 
"  Oh,  well !  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  go  without  you.  But 
I  won't  forget  it,  Jane.  It  does  really  seem  as  though 
the  older  I  get  the  less  my  wishes  are  considered.  But  I'll 
do  my  duty  as  I  see  it,  in  spite  of  you.  Do  you  suppose 
I  had  «pour  father  build  this  house  just  for  me  to  sit  in 
and  look  out  of  the  windows  at  the  passersby?  Not  I. 
Until  we  came  to  New  York  I  spent  all  of  my  life  looking 
at  the  gay  world  out  of  windows.  I'm  tired  of  playing 
second-fiddle." 

Jane  Loring  stood  before  her  mother  and  touched  her 
timidly  on  the  arm.  The  physical  resemblance  between 
them  was  strong,  and  it  was  easily  seen  where  the  daugh- 
ter got  her  beauty.  Mrs.  Loring  had  reached  middle  life 
very  prettily,  and  at  a  single  impression  it  was  difficult 
to  tell  whether  she  was  nearer  thirty-three  or  fifty-three. 
Her  skin  was  of  that  satiny  quality  which  wrinkles  depress 
but  do  not  sear.  Her  nose  was  slightly  aquiline  like  her 
daughter's,  but  the  years  had  thinned  her  lips  and  sharp- 
ened her  chin,  the  lines  at  her  mouth  were  querulous  rather 
than  severe,  and  when  her  face  was  placid,  her  forehead 
was  as  smooth  as  that  of  her  daughter.  She  was  not  a 
woman  who  had  ever  suffered  deeply,  or  who  ever  would, 
and  the  petty  annoyances  which  add  small  wrinkles  to  the 
faces  of  women  of  her  years  had  left  no  marks  whatever. 

99 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


But  since  the  family  had  been  in  New  York  Jane  had 
noticed  new  lines  between  her  brows  as  though  her  eyes, 
like  those  of  a  person  traveling  upon  an  unfamiliar  road, 
were  trying  for  a  more  concentrated  and  narrow  vision; 
and  as  she  turned  from  the  mirror  toward  the  light,  it 
seemed  to  Jane  that  she  had  grown  suddenly  old. 

"  Mother,  dear,  you  mustn't  let  trifles  disturb  you  so. 
It  will  age  you  frightfully !  You  know  how  people  are 
always  saying  that  you  look  younger  than  I  do.  I  don't 
want  to  worry  you.  I'll  do  whatever  you  like,  go  wher- 
ever you  like,  but  not  to-night " 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Jane  ?  Has  anything  hap- 
pened? " 

"  Oh,  no,  I — I  don't  feel  very  well.  It's  nothing  at 
all.  I'll  be  all  right  to-morrow.  But  you  must  g-o  with- 
out me.  There's  to  be  supper  afterward,  isn't  there?  " 

"  Oh,  yes."  And  then  despairingly :  "  You  always 
have  your  own  way,  in  the  end." 

She  kissed  the  girl  coldly  on  the  brow  and  turned  to- 
ward the  door. 

"  You  must  hurry  now,"  said  Jane.  "  Mr.  Van  Duyn 
will  be  coming  soon,  and  dinner  is  early.  Good  night, 
dear.  I  won't  be  down  to-night.  I  think  I'll  lie  down 
for  awhile." 

Mrs.  Loring  turned  one  more  helpless  look  in  Jane's 
direction  and  then  went  out  of  the  room. 

When  the  door  had  closed,  Jane  Loring  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock,  then  sank  at  full  length  on  the  couch,  and 
seemed  to  be  asleep;  but  her  head,  though  supported  by 
her  arms,  was  rigid  and  her  eyes,  wide  open,  were  staring 
at  vacancy.  In  the  hall  outside  she  heard  the  fall  of 
footsteps,  the  whisper  of  servants  and  the  commotion  of 
her  mother's  descent  to  dinner.  A  hurdy-gurdy  around 
the  corner  droned  a  popular  air,  a  distant  trolley-bell 

100 


THE   LORINGS 


clanged  and  an  automobile,  exhaust  open,  dashed  by  the 
house.  These  sounds  were  all  familiar  here,  and  yet  she 
heard  them  all ;  for  they  helped  to  silence  the  echoes  of  a 
voice  that  still  persisted  in  her  ears,  a  low  sonorous  voice, 
whose  tones  rose  and  fell  like  the  sighing  of  Kee-way-din 
in  the  pine-trees  of  the  frozen  North.  Her  thoughts  flew 
to  that  distant  spot  among  the  trees,  and  she  saw  the 
shimmer,  of  the  leaves  in  the  morning  sunlight,  heard*  the 
call  of  the  birds  and  the  whispering  of  the  stream.  It 
was  cold  up  there  now,  so  bleak  and  cold.  By  this  time 
a  white  brush  had  painted  out  the  glowing  canvas  of 
summer  and  left  no  sign  of  what  was  beneath.  And  yet 
somewhere  hidden  there,  as  in  her  heart,  beneath  that  chill 
mantle  was  the  dust  of  a  fire — the  gray  cinders,  the  ashes 
of  a  dead  faith,  and  Kee-way-din  moaned  above  them. 

A  tiny  clock  upon  the  mantle  chimed  the  hour.  Miss 
Loring  moved  stiffly,  and  sat  suddenly  upright.  She  got 
up  at  last  and  putting  on  a  loose  robe,  went  to  her  dress- 
ing table,  her  chin  high,  her  eye  gleaming  coldly  at  the 
pale  reflection  there.  The  blood  of  the  GaUatins !  Did  he 
think  the  magic  of  his  name  could  make  her  forget  the 
brute  in  him,  the  beast  in  him,  that  kissed  and  spoke  of 
love  while  the  thin  blood  of  the  GaUatins  seethed  in  its 
poison?  What  had  the  blood  of  the  GaUatins  to  do  with 
her?  Honor,  virtue,  truth?  He  had  spoken  of  these. 
What  right  had  he  to  use  them  to  one  who  had  an  indel- 
ible record  of  his  infamy?  His  kisses  were  hot  on  her 
mouth  even  now — kisses  that  desecrated,  that  profaned 
the  words  he  uttered.  Those  kisses!  The  memory  of 
them  stifled  her.  She  brushed  her  bare  arm  furiously 
across  her  lips  as  she  had  done  a  hundred  times  before. 
Lying  kisses,  traitorous  kisses,  scourging  kisses,  between 
which  he  had  dared  to  speak  of  love !  If  he  had  not  done 
that,  she  might  even  have  forgiven  him  the  physical  con- 

101 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


tact  that  had  defamed  her  womanhood.  And  yet  to-night 
he  had  spoken  those  same  words  again,  repeated  them  with 
a  show  of  warmth,  that  his  depravity  might  have  some 
palliation  and  excuse.  He  could,  it  seemed,  be  as  insolent 
as  he  was  brutal. 

Determined  to  think  of  him  no  more,  she  rang  for  her 
maid  and  ordered  dinner.  Then,  book  in  hand,  she  went 
down  stairs.  Mr.  Van  Duyn,  she  was  relieved  to  think, 
had  departed  with  Mrs.  Loring,  and  she  smiled  almost 
gaily  at  the  thought  that  this  evening  at  least  was  her 
own.  As  she  passed  into  the  library,  she  saw  that  a 
bright  light  was  burning  in  her  father's  study,  and  she 
peeped  in  at  the  door. 

It  was  not  a  large  room,  the  smallest  one,  in  fact,  upon 
the  lower  floor,  but  unlike  most  of  the  other  rooms,  it  had 
a  distinct  personality.  The  furniture — chairs,  desks,  and 
bookcases — was  massive,  almost  too  heavy  to  make  for 
architectural  accordance,  and  this  defect  was  made  more 
conspicuous  by  the  delicacy  and  minuteness  of  the  orna- 
ments. There  were  two  glass  cases  on  a  heavy  table 
filled  with  the  most  exquisite  ivories,  most  of  them  Jap- 
anese, an  Ormolu  case  with  a  glass  top  enclosing  snuff- 
boxes and  miniatures.  Three  Tanagra  figures  graced  one 
bookcase  and  upon  another  were  several  microscopes  of 
different  sizes.  The  pictures  on  the  walls,  each  of  them 
furnished  with  a  light-reflector,  were  small  with  elabo- 
rately carved  gold  frames — a  few  of  them  landscapes,  but 
most  of  them  "  genre  "  paintings,  with  many  small  figures. 

Before  one  discovered  the  owner  of  this  room  one 
would  have  decided  at  once  that  he  must  be  smallish, 
slender,  with  stooping  shoulders,  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses, 
a  jeweled  watch-fob  and,  perhaps,  a  squint ;  and  the  mas- 
sive appearance  of  the  present  occupant  would  have 
occasioned  more  than  a  slight  shock  of  surprise.  When 

102 


THE   LOEINGS 


Jane  looked  in,  Henry  K.  Loring  sat  on  the  very  edge  of 
a  wide  arm  chair,  with  a  magnifying  glass  in  his  hand 
carefully  examining  a  small  oil  painting  which  was 
propped  up  under  a  reading  light  on  another  chair  in 
front  of  him.  People  who  knew  him  only  in  his  business 
capacity  might  have  been  surprised  at  his  quiet  and  criti- 
cal delight  in  this  studious  occupation,  for  down  town 
he  was  best  known  by  a  brisk  and  summary  manner,  a 
belligerent  presence  and  a  strident  voice  which  smacked 
of  the  open  air.  His  bull-like  neck  was  set  deep  .in  his 
wide  shoulders  as  his  keen  eyes  peered  under  their  bushy 
eyebrows  at  the  object  in  front  of  him.  He  was  so 
absorbed  that  he  did  not  hear  the  light  patter  of  his 
daughter's  footsteps,  and  did  not  move  until  he  heard  the 
sound  of  her  voice. 

"  Well,  Daddy  1  "  she  said  in  surprise.  "  What  are 
you  doing  here?  " 

His  round  head  turned  slowly  as  though  on  a  pivot. 

"  Hello,  Jane!  Feeling  better?  "  He  raised  his  chin 
and  winked  one  eye  expressively. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going — with  Mother,"  said  Miss 
iLoring. 

"  Lord,  no !  You  know  I — "  and  he  laughed.  "  7  had 
a  headache,  too." 

The  girl  smiled  guiltily,  but  she  came  over  and  sat 
upon  the  arm  of  the  chair,  and  laid  her  hand  along  her 
father's  shoulder. 

"  Another  picture !  Oh,  Daddy,  such  extravagance ! 
Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?  So  that's  why  you 
stole  away  from  the  Dorsey-Martin's " 

"  It's  another  Verbeckhoeven,  Jane,"  he  chuckled  de- 
lightedly. "  A  perfect  wonder !  The  best  he  ever  did, 
I'm  sure !  Come,  sit  down  here  and  look  at  it." 

Jane  sank  to  the  floor  in  front  of  the  painting  and 
103 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


reached  for  the  enlarging  glass.  But  he  held  it  away 
from  her. 

"  No,  no,"  he  insisted.  "  Wait,  first  tell  me  how 
many  things  you  can  see  with  the  naked  eye." 

"  A  horse,  a  cow,  a  man  lying  on  the  grass,  trees, 
distant  haystacks  and  a  windmill,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  And  is  that  all?  "  he  laughed. 

"  No,  a  saddle  on  the  ground,  a  rooster  on  the  fence 
— yes — and  some  sheep  at  the  foot  of  the  hill." 

"  Nothing  more?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  so — except  the  buckles  on  the 
harness  and  the  birds  flying  near  the  pigeon-cote." 

"  Yes— yes— is  that  all?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  it  is." 

"  You're  blind  as  a  bat,  girl,"  he  roared  delightedly. 
"  Look  through  this  and  see !  "  and  he  handed  her  the 
glass.  "  Buckles  on  the  horses !  Examine  it !  Don't  you 
see  the  pack  thread  it's  sewed  with?  And  the  saddle  gall 
on  the  horse's  back?  And  the  crack  in  the  left  fore- 
hoof?  Did  you  ever  see  anything  more  wonderful?  Now 
look  into  the  distance  and  tell  me  what  else." 

"  Haymakers,"  gasped  Miss  Loring.  "  Two  women, 
a  man  and — and,  yes,  a  child.  I  couldn't  see  them  at  all. 
There's  a  rake  and  pitch  fork,  too " 

"  And  beyond ?  " 

"  Dykes  and  the  sails  of  ships — a  town  and  a  tower 
with  a  cupola !  " 

"  Splendid !  And  that's  only  half.  I've  been  looking 
at  it  for  an  hour  and  haven't  found  everything  yet.  I'll 
show  them  to  you — see " 

And  one  by  one  he  proudly  revealed  his  latest  discov- 
eries. His  passion  for  the  minute  almost  amounted  to 
an  obsession,  and  the  appearance  of  his  large  bulk  poring 
over  some  delicate  object  of  art  was  no  unfamiliar  one  to 

104 


THE   LORINGS 


Jane,  but  she  always  humored  him,  because  she  knew  that, 
although  he  was  proud  of  his  great  house,  here  was  the 
real  interest  that  he  found  in  it.  His  business  enthralled 
him,  but  it  made  him  merciless,  too,  and  in  this  harmless 
hobby  his  daughter  had  discovered  a  humanizing  influ- 
ence which  she  welcomed  and  encouraged.  It  gave  them 
points  of  contact  from  which  Mrs.  Loring  was  far  re- 
moved, and  Jane  was  always  the  first  person  in  the  house- 
hold to  share  the  delights  of  his  latest  acquisitions.  But 
to-night  she  was  sure  that  her  duty  demanded  a  mild 
reproof. 

"  It's  an  astonishing  picture,  Daddy,  but  I'm  sure 
we've  both  treated  Mother  very  badly.  You  know  you 
promised  her " 

"  So  did  you " 

"  But  I— I  felt  very  badly." 

"  So  did  I,"  he  chuckled,  "  very  badly."  He  put  his 
arm  around  his  daughter's  shoulders  and  drew  her  closer 
against  his  knees.  "Oh,  Jane,  what's  the  use?  Life's 
too  short  to  do  a  lot  of  things  you  don't  want  to  do. 
Your  mother  likes  to  go  around.  Let  her  buzz,  she 
likes  it." 

"  Perhaps  she  does,"  Jane  reproved  him.  "  But  then 
you  and  I  have  our  duty." 

"  Don't  let  that  worry  you,  child.  I  do  my  duty — 
but  I  do  it  in  a  different  way.  Your  mother  stalks  her 
game  in  its  native  wild.  I  don't.  I  wait  by  the  water 
hole  until  it  comes  to  drink,  and  then  I  kill  it." 

"  But  people  here  must  have  some  assurance  that  new 
families  are  acceptable " 

"  Don't  worry  about  that,  either.  We'll  do,  I  guess. 
And  when  I  want  to  go  anywhere,  or  want  my  family  to 
go  anywhere,  I  ask,  that's  all.  The  women  don't  run 
New  York  society.  They  only  think  they  do.  If  there's 

105 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


any  house  you  want  to  go  to  or  any  people  you  want  to 
come  to  see  us,  you  tell  me  about  it.  There's  more  than 
one  way  to  skin  a  cat,  but  my  way  is  the  quickest.  I'm 
not  going  to  have  you  hanging  on  the  outer  fringe.  You 
can  be  the  jewel  and  the  ornament  of  the  year.  Even 
Mrs.  Suydam  will  take  you  under  her  wing,  if  you  want 
her  to." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  under  any  one's  wing.  I 
might  turn  out  to  be  the  ugly  duckling." 

He  pressed  her  fondly  in  his  great  arms.  "  You  are — 
a  duckling — it's  a  pity  you're  so  ugly."  He  laughed  at  his 
joke  and  broke  off  and  seized  the  glass  from  her  fingers. 

"  Jane,"  he  cried,  "  you  didn't  find  the  woman  inside 
the  farmhouse !  And  the  jug  on  the  bench  beside " 

But  Miss  Loring's  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

"  Daddy,  I  don't  want  people  to  come  to  see  me, 
unless  I  like  them,"  she  went  on  slowly,  "  and  I  don't 
want  to  go  to  peoples'  houses  just  because  they're  fash- 
ionable houses.  I  want  to  choose  my  friends  for  myself." 

"  You  shall ! "  he  muttered,  laying  down  his  glass 
with  a  sigh  and  putting  his  arm  around  her  again.  And 
then  with  a  lowered  voice,  "  You  haven't  seen  anybody 
you — you  really  like  yet,  daughter,  have  you?  " 

"  No,"  said  Miss  Loring,  with  a  positiveness  which 
startled  him.  "  No  one — not  a  soul." 

"  Not  Coleman  Van  Duyn " 

"  Daddy !  "  she  cried.    "  Of  course  not !  " 

"  And  no  one  else  ?  " 

"  No  one  else." 

He  grunted  comfortably.  "  I'm  glad  of  that.  I 
haven't  seen  anybody  good  enough  for  you  yet.  I'm  glad 
it's  not  Van  Duyn — or  young  Sackett.  I  thought,  per- 
haps, you  had,"  he  finished. 

"Why?" 

106 


THE   LORINGS 


"  You've  been  so  quiet  lately." 

"  Have  I?  "  she  smiled  into  the  fire.  "  I  didn't  know 
it." 

"  Don't  you  let  people  worry  you,  and  don't  take  this 
society  game  too  seriously.  It's  only  a  game,  and  a  poor 
one  at  that.  It's  only  meant  for  old  fools  who  want  to 
be  young  and  young  fools  who  want  to  be  old.  Those 
people  don't  play  it  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing — to 
them  it's  a  business,  and  they  work  at  it  harder  than  a 
lot  of  galley-slaves.  You've  got  to  try  it,  of  course,  I 
believe  in  trying  everything,  but  don't  you  let  it  get  you 
twisted — the  ball-room,  with  its  lights,  its  flowers  and 
its  pretty  speeches.  They're  all  part  of  the  machinery. 
The  fellow  you're  going  to  marry  won't  be  there,  Jane. 
He's  too  busy." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nobody  in  particular,"  he  snorted.  "  But  I 
don't  believe  you'll  ever  marry  a  carpet-knight.  You 
won't  if  I  can  stop  you,  at  any  rate."  He  had  taken  out 
a  cigar  and  snipped  the  end  of  it  carefully  with  a  pocket- 
knife.  "  They're  a  new  kind  of  animal  to  me,  these  young 
fellows  about  town,"  he  said  between  puffs.  "  Beside  a 
man,  they're  what  the  toy  pug  is  to  the  bulldog  or  the 
Pomeranian  is  to  the  *  husky.'  Fine  dogs  they  are,"  he 
sniffed,  "  bred  to  the  boudoir  and  the  drawing-room !  " 

"  But  some  of  them  are  very  nice,  Daddy,"  said  Jane. 
"  You  know  you  liked  Dirwell  De  Lancey  and  William 
Worthington." 

"  Oh,  they're  the  harmless  kind,  playful  and  amus- 
ing !  "  he  sneered.  "  But  they're  only  harmless  because 
they  haven't  sense  enough  to  be  anything  else.  You'll 
meet  the  other  kind,  Jane,  the  loafers  and  the  drunkards." 

Miss  Loring  leaned  quickly  forward  away  from  him, 
her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  looked  into  the  fire. 

107 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  It's  the  work  of  the  social  system,  Jane.  Most  of 
these  old  families  are  playing  a  losing  game,  their  blood 
is  diluted  and  impoverished,  but  they  still  cling  to  their 
ropes  of  sand.  They  marry  their  children  to  our  children, 
but  God  knows  that  won't  help  'em.  It  isn't  money  they 
need.  Money  can't  make  new  gristle  and  cartilage.  Money 
can't  buy  new  fiber." 

The  girl  changed  her  position  slightly.  "  I  suppose 
it's  all  true,  but  it  seems  a  pity  that  the  sons  should 
suffer  for  the  sins  of  the  fathers." 

"  It's  written  so — unto  the  third  and  fourth  genera- 
tion, Jane." 

"  But  the  sons — they  have  no  chance — no  chance  at 
all?  " 

"  Only  what  they  can  save  out  of  the  wreck.  Take 
young  Perrine  or  young  Gallatin,  for  instance.  There's 
a  case  in  point.  His  people  have  all  been  rich  and  talented. 
They've  helped  to  make  history,  but  they've  all  had  the 
same  taint.  Year  by  year  they've  seen  their  fortunes 
diminish,  but  couldn't  stem  the  tide  against  them.  But 
now  the  last  of  the  line  is  content  just  to  exist  on  the 
fag-end  of  what's  left  him.  He's  clever,  too,  they  say — 
went  into  the  law,  as  his  father  did,  but " 

"  Oh,  Daddy,  it's  unjust — cruel!  "  Jane  Loring  broke 
in  suddenly. 

"What  is?" 

"  Heredity " 

"  It's  the  law !  I  feel  sorry  for  that  young  fellow. 
I  like  him,  but  I'd  rather  see  you  dead  at  my  feet  than 
married  to  him." 

Miss  Loring  did  not  move,  but  the  hands  around  her 
knee  clasped  each  other  more  tightly. 

"  I  don't  know — I've  never  been  introduced  to  Mr. 
Gallatin,"  she  said  quietly. 

1.Q& 


MR.   VAN   DUYN    RIDES    FORTH 

MR.  COLEMAN  VAN  DUYN  lurched  heavily  up 
the  wide  steps  that  led  to  the  main  corridor 
of  the  Potowomac  apartments  and  took  the 
elevator  upstairs.  He  asked  for  mail  and  sat  down  at  the 
desk  in  his  library  with  a  frowning  brow  and  protruding 
jowl.  Affairs  down  town  had  not  turned  out  to  his  liking 
this  morning.  For  a  month  everything  seemed  to  have 
gone  wrong.  He  was  short  on  stocks  that  had  struck 
the  trade-winds,  and  long  on  others  that  were  hung  in 
the  doldrums ;  his  luck  at  Auction  had  deserted  him ;  his 
latest  doctor  had  made  a  change  in  his  regimen;  a 
favorite  horse  had  broken  a  leg ;  and  last,  but  not  by  any 
means  the  least,  until  this  afternoon  Fate  had  continued 
to  conspire  to  keep  him  apart  from  Miss  Jane  Loring. 

They  had  met  casually  several  times  at  people's  houses 
and  once  he  had  talked  with  her  at  the  Suydam's,  but  the 
opportunities  for  which  he  planned  obstinately  refused 
to  present  themselves.  He  had  finally  succeeded  in  per- 
suading her  to  ride  with  him  to-day,  and  after  writing  a 
note  or  two,  he  called  his  man  and  dressed  with  particu- 
lar care.  Mr.  Van  Duyn's  mind  was  so  constructed  that 
he  could  never  think  of  more  than  one  thing  at  a  time; 
but  of  that  one  thing  he  always  thought  with  every  dull 
fiber  of  his  brain,  and  Miss  Loring's  indifference  to  his 
honorable  intentions  had  preyed  upon  him  to  the  detri- 
ment of  other  and,  perhaps,  equally  important  interests. 

Mr.  Van  Duyn  was  large  of  body  and  ponderous  of 

109 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


thought,  and  his  decisions  were  only  born  after  a  pro- 
longed and  somewhat  uncertain  period  of  gestation.  It 
took  him  an  hour  to  order  his  dinner,  and  at  least  two 
hours  to  eat  (and  drink)  it.  And  so  when  at  the  age  of 
five  and  thirty  he  had  reached  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
time  for  him  to  marry,  he  had  set  about  carrying  his 
resolution  into  effect  with  the  same  solemn  deliberation 
which  characterized  every  other  act  of  his  life.  He  had 
been  accustomed  always  to  have  things  happen  exactly 
as  he  planned  them,  and  was  of  the  opinion,  when  he 
followed  the  Lorings  to  Canada,  that  nothing  lacked  in 
the  proposed  alliance  to  make  it  eminently  desirable  for 
both  of  the  parties  concerned.  Matches  he  knew  were  no 
longer  made  in  Heaven  and  an  opportunist  like  Henry  K. 
Loring  could  not  long  debate  upon  the  excellence  of  the 
arrangement. 

Miss  Loring's  refusal  of  him  up  at  camp,  last  Bummer, 
had  shocked  him,  and  for  awhile  he  had  not  been  able  to 
believe  the  evidence  of  his  ears,  for  Mrs.  Loring  had  given 
him  to  understand  that  to  her  at  least  he  was  a  particu- 
larly desirable  suitor.  When  he  recovered  from  his  shock 
of  amazement,  his  feeling  was  one  of  anger,  and  his  first 
impulse  to  leave  the  Loring  camp  at  once.  But  after  a 
night  of  thought  he  changed  his  mind.  He  found  in  the 
morning  that  Miss  Loring's  refusal  had  had  the  curious 
effect  of  making  her  more  desirable,  more  desirable,  indeed, 
than  any  young  female  person  he  had  ever  met.  He  was 
in  love  with  her,  in  fact,  and  all  other  reasons  for  want- 
ing to  marry  her  now  paled  beside  the  important  fact  that 
she  was  essential  to  his  well  being,  his  mental  health  and 
happiness.  He  did  not  even  think  of  her  great  wealth 
as  he  had  at  first  done,  of  the  fortune  she  would  bring 
which  would  aid  materially  in  providing  the  sort  of  an 
establishment  a  married  Van  Duyn  must  maintain.  In 

110 


ME.    VAN   DUYN   RIDES   FORTH 

his  cumbrous  way  he  had  decided  that  even  had  she  been 
penniless,  she  would  have  been  necessary  to  him  just  the 
same. 

He  had  stayed  on  at  camp,  accepting  Mrs.  Loring's 
advice  that  it  would  not  be  wise  to  take  her  refusal  seri- 
ously. She  was  only  a  child  and  could  not  know  the  mean- 
ing of  the  honor  he  intended  to  confer.  But  in  New  York 
her  indifference  continued  to  prick  his  self-esteem,  and  for 
several  weeks  he  had  been  following  her  about,  sending  her 
flowers  and  losing  no  chance  to  keep  his  memory  green. 

And  so,  he  examined  his  shiny  boots  with  a  narrowing 
and  critical  eye,  donned  a  favorite  pink  silk  shirt  and 
tied  on  a  white  stock  into  which  he  stuck  a  fox-head  pin. 
He  had  put  on  more  flesh  in  the  last  three  years  than  he 
needed,  and  his  collar  bands  were  getting  too  tight;  but 
as  he  looked  in  the  mirror  of  his  dressing-stand,  he  was 
willing  to  admit  that  he  was  still  the  fine  figure  of  a 
man — a  Van  Duyn  every  inch  of  him.  It  was  in  the  midst 
of  this  agreeable  occupation  that  Mr.  Worthington  en- 
tered, a  corn-flower  in  his  buttonhole  and  otherwise  ar- 
rayed for  conquest.  Van  Duyn  looked  over  his  shoulder 
and  nodded  a  platonic  greeting. 

"  Tea-ing  it,  Bibby?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  Might  as  well  do  that  as  sit  somewhere. 
Just  stopped  in  on  my  way  down."  Worthington's  apart- 
ment was  above.  And  then,  "  Lord  Coley,  you  are  filling 
out!  Riding?" 

"  No,"  grinned  the  other,  "  going  to  pick  strawberries 
on  the  Metropolitan  Tower.  Don't  I  look  like  it?  " 

Worthington  smiled.  Van  Duyn's  playfulness  always 
much  resembled  that  of  a  young  St.  Bernard  puppy. 

"  I  thought  you'd  given  it  up.     Her  name,  please." 

Mr.  Van  Duyn  refused  to  reply. 

"  It's  the  Loring  girl,  isn't  it?  "  Worthington  queried 
111 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


cheerfully.  "  I  thought  so.  '  You  lucky  devil !  "  He 
touched  the  tips  of  two  fingers  and  thumb  to  his  lips,  and 
with  eyes  heavenward  laid  them  upon  his  heart.  "  She's 
an  angel,  a  blue-eyed  angel,  fresh  from  the  rosy  aura 
of  a  cherubim.  Oh,  Coley,  what  the  devil  can  she  see  in 
you?" 

"  Don't  be  an  ass,  Bibby,"  Van  Duyn  grunted  wrath- 
fully. 

"  I'm  not  an  ass.  I'm  in  love,  you  amatory  Behemoth, 
in  love  as  I've  never  been  before — with  an  angel  fresh 
from  Elysium." 

"  Meaning  Miss  Jane  Loring?  " 

"  Who  else?  There's  no  one  else,"  dolefully.  "  There 
never  has  been  any  one  else — there  never  will  be  any  one 
else.  You're  in  love  with  her,  too ;  aren't  you,  Coley  ?  " 

"  Well,  of  all  the  impudence !  " 

"  Nonsense.  I'm  only  living  up  to  the  traditions  of 
our  ancient  friendship.  I'm  giving  you  a  fair  warning. 
I  intend  to  marry  the  lady  myself." 

The  visitor  had  lit  a  cigarette  and  was  calmly  helping 
himself  to  whisky.  Van  Duyn  threw  back  his  head  and 
roared  with  laughter. 

"You!  Good  joke.  Haw!  You've  got  as  many 
lives  as  a  cat,  Bibby.  Been  blowing  out  your  brains  every 
season  for  fifteen  years."  He  struggled  into  his  coat  and 
squared  himself  before  the  mirror.  "  Wasting  your  time," 
he  finished  dryly. 

"Meaning  that  you  are  the  chosen  one?  Oh,  I  say, 
Coley,  don't  make  me  laugh.  You'll  spoil  the  set  of  my 
cravat.  You  know,  I  couldn't  care  for  her  if  I  thought 
her  taste  was  as  bad  as  that.  Not  engaged  are  you?  " 

"  Oh,  drop  it,"  said  the  other.  "  Remarks  are  per- 
sonal. Miss  Loring  is  fine  girl.  Fellow  gets  her  will  be 
lucky."  He  had  poured  himself  a  drink,  but  paused  in  the 

112 


MR.    FAN  DUYN   RIDES   FORTH 

act  of  taking  it,  and  asked,  "  Haven't  seen  Gallatin  lately, 
have  you?  " 

"  No — nobody  has — since  that  night  at  the  Club. 
He'd  been  sitting  tight — and  God  knows  that's  no  joke! 
Good  Lord,  but  he  did  fall  off  with  a  thud!  Been  on 
the  wagon  six  months,  too.  He  ought  to  let  it  alone." 

"  He  can't,"  said  Van  Duyn  grimly. 

"  Well,  six  months  is  a  good  while — for  Phil — but  he 
stuck  it  out  like  a  little  man."  And  then  ruminatively, 
"  I  wonder  what  made  him  begin  again.  He'd  been  re- 
fusing all  the  afternoon.  Came  in  later  with  his  jaw  set — 
white  and  somber — you  know — and  started  right  in.  It's 
a  great  pity !  I'd  like  to  have  a  talk  with  Phil.  I'm  fond 
of  that  boy.  But  he's  so  touchy.  Great  Scott !  I  tried 
it  once,  and  I'll  never  forget  the  look  he  gave  me.  Never 
again !  I'd  as  leave  try  a  curtain  lecture  on  a  Bengal 
tiger." 

"  What's  the  use?    We've  got  troubles  of  our  own." 

"  Not  like  his,  Coley.  With  me  it's  a  diversion,  with 
you  it's  an  appetite,  with  Phil  it's  a  disease.  That's  why 
he  went  to  Canada  this  summer.  By  the  way,  you  were  in 
the  woods  with  the  Lorings,  of  course  you  heard  about 
that  girl  that  Phil  met  up  there?  " 

"  No,"  growled  the  other. 

"  Seems  to  be  a  mystery.     Percy  Endicott  says " 

Van  Duyn  set  his  glass  on  the  table  with  a  crash  that 
broke  it,  then  rose  with  an  oath. 

"  Think  I'm  going  to  listen  to  that  rubbish? "  he 
muttered.  "  Who  cares  what  happened  to  Gallatin  ?  / 
'don't,  for  one.  As  for  Percy,  he's  a  lyin',  little  gossipin* 
Pharisee.  I  don't  believe  there  was  any  girl " 

"  But  Gallatin  admits  it." 

"  D Gallatin !  "  he  roared. 

Worthington  looked  up  in  surprise,  but  rose  and 
113 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


kicked  his   trousers  legs  into  their  immaculate  creases. 

"  Oh,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it — "  He  took  up  his 
silk  hat  and  brushed  it  with  his  coat  sleeve.  "I  think  I'll 
be  toddling  along." 

"Oh,  don't  get  peevish,  Bibby.  You  like  Phil  Gal- 
latin.  Well,  I  don't.  Always  too  d starchy  for  me 

anyway."  He  paused  at  the  table  in  the  library  while  he 
filled  his  cigarette  case  from  a  silver  box.  Then  he 
examined  Worthington's  face.  "  You  didn't  hear  the 
girl's  name  mentioned,  did  you?  "  he  asked  carelessly. 

"  Oh,  no,  even  Gallatin  didn't  know  it."  Worthington 
had  put  on  his  hat  and  was  making  for  the  door.  "  Of 
course  it  doesn't  matter  anyway." 

Van  Duyn  followed,  his  man  helping  them  into  their 
overcoats. 

"Can't  drop  you  anywhere,  can  I,  Bibby?  I've  got 
the  machine  below." 

"  No,  thanks.    I'll  walk." 

On  the  ride  uptown  Coleman  Van  Duyn  glowered  mood- 
ily out  at  the  winter  sunlight.  He  had  heard  enough  of  this 
story  they  were  telling  about  Phil  Gallatin  and  the 
mysterious  girl  in  the  woods.  He  alone  knew  that  the 
main  facts  were  true,  because  he  had  had  incontestible 
evidence  that  the  mysterious  girl  was  Jane  Loring.  All 
the  circumstances  as  related  exactly  tallied  with  his  own 
information  received  from  the  two  guides  who  had  brought 
her  into  Loring's  camp.  And  in  spite  of  his  knowl- 
edge of  Jane's  character,  the  coarse  embroidery  that  gos- 
sip was  adding  to  the  tale  had  left  a  distinctly  disagree- 
able impression.  Jane  Loring  had  spent  the  better  part  of 
a  week  alone  with  Phil  Gallatin  in  the  heart  of  the  Cana- 
dian wilderness.  Van  Duyn  did  not  like  Gallatin.  They 
had  known  each  other  for  years,  and  an  appearance  of  fel- 
lowship existed  between  them,  but  in  all  tastes  save  one 


MR.    FAN   DUYN   HIDES   FORTH 

they  had  nothing  in  common.  He  and  Gallatin  had  locked 
horns  once  before  on  a  trifling  matter,  and  the  fact  that 
the  girl  Van  Duyn  intended  to  marry  had  been  thrown 
upon  the  mercies  of  a  man  of  Gallatin's  stamp  was  gall 
and  wormwood  to  him.  But  when  he  thought  of  Jane  he 
cursed  the  gossips  in  his  heart  for  a  lot  of  meddlers  and 
scandal-mongers.  If  he  knew  anything  of  human  na- 
ture— and  like  most  heavy  deliberate  men,  he  believed  his 
judgment  to  be  infallible,  Jane  was  the  blue-eyed  angel 
Mr.  Worthington  had  so  aptly  described,  "  fresh  from 
the  rosy  aura  of  a  cherubim."  But  there  were  many 
things  to  be  explained.  One  of  the  guides  that  had  found 
her  had  dropped  a  hint  that  it  was  no  guide's  camp 
that  she  had  visited  in  the  woods,  as  she  had  told  them 
at  camp.  And  why,  if  she  had  been  well  cared  for 
there,  had  she  fled?  What  relations  existed  between 
Jane  Loring  and  Phil  Gallatin  that  made  it  necessary 
for  her  to  hide  the  fact  of  his  existence?  What  had 
Gallatin  done  that  she  should  wish  to  escape  him?  Van 
Duyn's  turgid  blood  seethed  darkly  in  his  veins.  Gallatin 
had  acknowledged  the  main  facts  of  the  story.  Why 
hadn't  he  told  it  all,  as  any  other  man  would  have  done 
without  making  all  this  mystery  about  it?  Or  why  hadn't 
he  denied  it  entirely  instead  of  leaving  a  loophole  for  the 
gossip?  Why  hadn't  he  lied,  as  any  other  man  would 
have  done,  like  a  gentleman?  Only  he,  Van  Duyn,  had 
an  inkling  of  the  facts,  and  yet  his  lips  were  sealed.  He 
had  had  to  sit  calmly  and  listen  while  the  story  was  told 
in  his  presence  at  the  club,  while  his  fingers  were  aching 
to  throttle  the  man  who  was  repeating  it.  Phil  Gallatin ! 

D him! 

It  was,  therefore,  in  no  very  pleasant  frame  of  mind 
that  Van  Duyn  got  down  at  Miss  Loring's  door.  The 
horses  were  already  at  the  carriage  drive  and  Miss 

115 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Loring  came  down  at  once.  Mr.  Van  Duyn  helped  her 
into  the  saddle,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  in  the 
Park  walking  their  horses  carefully  until  they  reached 
the  nearest  bridle  path,  when  they  swung  into  a  canter, 
Miss  Loring  had  noted  the  preoccupation  of  her  com" 
panion,  and  after  one  or  two  efforts  at  cheerful  common- 
place, had  subsided,  only  too  glad  to  enjoy  in  silence  the 
glory  of  the  afternoon  sunlight.  But  presently  when 
the  horses  were  winded,  she  pulled  her  own  animal  into 
a  walk  and  Van  Duyn  quickly  imitated  her  example. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  I  came,  Coley,"  she  said  genuinely, 
with  mounting  color  and  sparkling  eyes. 

"Are  you?"  he  panted,  Jane's  optimism  at  last  de- 
feating his  megrims.  "Bully,  isn't  it?  Ever  hunted?" 

"  Yes,  one  season  at  Pau." 

"  Jolly  set,  hunting  set.     Jolliest  in  New  York." 

"  Yes,  I  know  some  of  them — Mr.  Kane,  Mr.  Spencer, 
Miss  Jaffray,  the  Rawsons  and  the  Penningtons.  They 
wouldn't  do  this,  though;  they  turn  up  their  noses  at 
Park  riding.  Aren't  you  hunting  this  year?  " 

"No,"  he  grunted.  "Life's  too  short."  He  might 
also  have  added  that  he  wasn't  up  to  the  work,  but  he 
didn't.  Jane  noticed  the  drop  in  his  voice  and  examined 
him  curiously. 

"  You  don't  seem  very  happy  to-day,  Coley." 

"  Any  reason  you  can  think  of  why  I  should  be  ?  "  he 
muttered. 

"  Thousands,"  she  laughed,  purposely  oblivious.  "  The 
joy  of  living " 

"  Oh,  rot,  Jane !  " 

"  Coley !     You're  not  polite !  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean  well  enough,"  he  insisted 
sulkily. 

"  Do  I?     Please  explain." 

116 


MR.    VAN   DUYN   RIDES   FORTH 

"  Don't  you  know,  this  is  the  first  time  I've  been  with 
you  alone — since  the  woods  ?  "  he  stammered. 

Jane  laughed. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  have  such  a  bad  effect  on  you.  You 
asked  me  to  come,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  don't  tease  a  chap  so.  What's  the  use?  Been 
try  in'  to  see  you  for  weeks.  You've  been  avoidin'  me, 
Jane.  What  I  want  to  know  is — why?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  avoid  you.  If  I  did,  I  shouldn't  be 
with  you  to-day,  should  I?  " 

There  seemed  to  be  no  reply  to  that  and  Van  Duyn's 
frown  only  deepened. 

"  I  thought  we  were  goin*  to  be  friends,"  he  went  on 
slowly.  "  We  had  a  quarrel  up  at  camp,  but  I  thought 
we'd  straightened  that  out.  You  forgave  me,  didn't 
you?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  couldn't  very  well  do  anything  else.  But 
you'll  have  to  admit  I'd  never  done  anything  to  war- 
rant  " 

"  I  was  a  fool.  Sorry  for  what  I  did,  too.  When 
you  got  back  I  told  you  so.  I'm  a  fool  still,  but  I've  got 
sense  enough  to  be  patient.  Pretty  rough,  though,  the 
way  you  treat  me.  Thinkin'  about  you  most  of  the  time — 
all  upset — don't  sleep  the  way  I  ought — things  don't 
taste  right.  I'm  in  love  with  you,  Jane " 

"I  thought  you  had  promised  not  to  speak  of  that 
again,"  she  put  in  with  lowered  voice. 

"  Oh,  hang  it !  I've  got  to  speak  of  it,"  he  growled. 
"  When  a  fellow  wants  to  marry  a  girl,  he  can't  stay  in 
the  background  and  see  other  fellows  payin'  her  atten- 
tion— hear  stories  of " 

Jane  looked  up,  her  eyes  questioning  sharply  and 
Coleman  Van  Duyn  stopped  short.  He  had  not  meant 
to  go  so  far. 

117 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Stories  about  me?  " 

He  wouldn't  reply,  and  only  glowered  at  his  horse's 
ears. 

"What  story  have  you  heard  about  me,  Coley?  "  she 
asked  quietly. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  mumbled.  "  It  wasn't  about  you," 
he  finished  lamely. 

"  It's  something  that  concerns  me  then.  You've  made 
that  clear.  You  must  tell  me — at  once,"  she  said  de- 
cisively. 

Van  Duyn  glanced  at  her  and  dropped  his  gaze,  aware 
for  the  second  time  that  this  girl's  spirit  when  it  rose 
was  too  strong  for  him.  And  yet  there  was  an  anxiety 
in  her  curiosity,  too,  which  gave  him  a  sense  of  mastery, 

"  Oh,  just  gossip,"  he  said  cautiously.  "  Everybody 
gets  his  share  of  it,  you  know."  Then  he  laughed  aloud, 
rather  too  noisily,  so  that  she  wasn't  deceived. 

"  It's  something  I  have  a  right  to  know,  of  course.  li; 
must  be  unpleasant  or  you  wouldn't  have  thought  of  it 
again.  You  must  tell  me,  Coley." 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  ?  " 

"  None.    But  I  mean  to  hear  it  just  the  same." 

"  Oh ! "  He  saw  that  her  face  was  set  in  resolute 
lines,  so  he  looked  away,  his  lids  narrowing,  while  he 
thought  of  a  plan  which  might  turn  his  information  to 
his  own  advantage. 

"  It  isn't  about  you  at  all,"  he  said  slowly,  sparring 
for  time. 

"  Then  why  did  you  think  of  it?  "  She  had  him  cor- 
nered now  and  he  knew  it,  so  he  fought  back  sullenly, 
looking  anywhere  but  at  her. 

"  You  haven't  given  me  a  fair  show,  Jane.  Up  in 
camp  we  got  to  be  pretty  good  pals  until — until  you 
found  out  I  wanted  to  marry  you.  Even  then  you  said 

118 


MR.    FAN  DUYN  RIDES   FORTH 

there  wasn't  any  reason  why  we  shouldn't  be  friends.  I 
lost  my  head  that  morning  and  made  a  fool  of  myself 
and  you  ran  away  and  got  lost.  When  the  guides  brought 
you  back  you  were  different,  utterly  changed.  Something 
had  happened.  You  wouldn't  have  been  so  rotten  to  me, 
just  because — because  of  that.  Besides  you  forgave  me. 
Didn't  I  acknowledge  it?  And  haven't  I  done  the  square 
thing,  let  you  alone,  watched  you  from  a  distance,  almost 
as  if  I  didn't  even  know  you?  I  tell  you,  Jane " 

"  What  has  this  to  do  with " 

"  Wait,"  he  said,  his  eyes  now  searching  hers,  his 
color  deepening  as  he  gathered  courage,  while  Jane  Loring 
listened,  conscious  that  her  companion's  intrusiveness 
and  brutality  were  dragging  her  pride  in  the  dust.  "  You 
went  off  into  the  woods  and  stayed  five  days.  You  told 
us  when  you  got  back  to  camp  that  you'd  been  found  by 
an  Indian  guide  and  that  you  hadn't  been  able  to  find  the 
trail — and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Everybody  believed 
you.  We  were  all  too  glad  to  get  you  back.  What  I 
want  to  know  is  why  you  told  that  story?  What  was 
your  reason  for  keeping  back " 

"  It  was  true — "  she  stammered,  but  his  keen  eyes 
saw  that  her  face  was  blanching  and  her  emotion  infuri- 
ated him. 

"  All  except  that  the  Indian  guide  was  Phil  Gallatin," 
he  said  brutally. 

The  hands  that  held  the  reins  jerked  involuntarily 
and  her  horse  reared  and  swerved  away,  but  in  a  moment 
she  had  steadied  him ;  and  when  Van  Duyn  drew  alongside 
of  her,  she  was  still  very  pale  but  quite  composed. 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  "  she  asked  in  a  voice  the 
tones  of  which  she  still  struggled  to  control, 

He  waited  a  long  moment,  the  frown  gathering  more 
119 


darkly.     He  had  still  hoped,  it  seemed,  that  she  mighfi 
deny  it. 

"  Oh,  I  know  it,  all  right,"  he  muttered,  glowering. 

Her  laughter  rather  surprised  him.  "  Your  keenness 
does  you  credit,"  she  continued.  "  I  met  a  stranger  in 
the  woods  and  stayed  at  his  camp.  There's  nothing 
extraordinary  in  that " 

"  No,"  he  interrupted  quickly.     "  Not  in  that.     The 

extraordinary  thing  is   that  you   should   have ;>  he 

hesitated. 

"  Lied  about  it  ?  "  she  suggested  calmly.  "  Oh,  I  don't 
think  we  need  discuss  that.  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  talk- 
ing over  my  personal  affairs." 

Her  indifference  inflamed  him  further  and  his  eyes 
gleamed  maliciously. 

"  It's  a  pity  Gallatin  hasn't  a  similar  code." 

Her  eyes  opened  wide.  "  What — do — you — mean?  " 
she  asked  haltingly. 

"  That  Gallatin  is  telling  of  the  adventure  himself," 
he  said  with  a  bold  laugh. 

"  He  is  telling — of — the — adventure — "  she  repeated, 
and  then  paused,  her  horrified  eyes  peering  straight  ahead 
of  her.  "  Oh,  how  odious  of  him — how  odious !  There  is 
nothing  to  tell — Coley — absolutely  nothing — "  And  then 
as  a  new  thought  even  more  horrible  than  those  that  had 
gone  before  crossed  her  mind,  "  What  are  they  saying? 
Has  he — has  he  spoken  my  name?  Tell  me.  I  can't  be- 
lieve that  of  him — not  that !  " 

Van  Duyn  was  not  sure  that  the  emotion  which  he  felt 
was  pity  for  her  or  pity  for  himself,  but  he  looked  away, 
his  face  reddening  uncomfortably,  and  when  he  spoke  his 
voice  was  lowered. 

"  I  heard  the  story,"  he  said  with  crafty  deliberate- 
ness,  "  at  the  Club.  I  got  up  and  left  the  room." 

120 


MR.    FAN   DUYN   EIDES   FORTH 

"Was — was  Mr.   Gallatin   there?" 

"  No — not  there  ?  "  he  muttered.  "  He  came  in  as  I 
left.  You  know  it  wouldn't  have  been  possible  for  me  to 
stay." 

"  What  are  they  saying,  Coley  ?  "  she  gasped,  seeking 
in  one  breath  to  plumb  the  whole  depth  of  her  humilia- 
tion. "  You  must  tell  me.  Do  you  mean  that  they're 
saying — that — that  Mr.  Gallatin  and  I — were — ?  "  she 
couldn't  finish,  and  he  made  no  effort  to  help  her,  for  her 
troubled  face  and  every  word  that  she  uttered  went  fur- 
ther to  confirm  his  suspicions  and  increase  his  misery. 

"Do  you  believe  that?"  she  whispered  again.  "Do 
you?  "  And  then,  as  he  refused  to  turn  his  head  or 
reply,  "  Oh,  how  dreadful  of  you !  " 

She  put  spurs  to  her  horse  and  before  he  was  well 
aware  of  it  was  vanishing  among  the  trees.  His  animal 
was  unequal  to  the  task  he  set  for  it,  for  he  lost  sight  of 
her,  found  her  again  in  the  distance  and  thundered  after, 
breathing  heavily  and  perspiring  at  every  pore,  hating 
himself  for  his  suspicions,  and  filled  with  terror  at  the 
thought  of  losing  her.  Never  had  he  been  so  mad  for  the 
possession  of  her  as  now,  and  floundered  helplessly  on  like 
an  untrained  dog  in  pursuit  of  a  wounded  bird.  But  he 
couldn't  catch  up  with  her.  And  when,  later,  he  stopped 
at  the  Loring  house,  she  refused  to  see  him. 


121 


XI 

THE    CEDARCROFT   SET 

'ISS  LORING  had  no  engagements  for  the  even- 
ing, and  excusing  herself  to  her  family,  spent  it 
alone  in  her  room,  where  for  a  long  while  she 
sat  or  walked  the  floor,  in  dire  distress,  her  faculties 
benumbed  like  those  of  a  person  who  has  suffered  a  calami- 
tous grief  or  a  physical  violence.  Sentence  by  sentence 
she  slowly  rehearsed  the  conversation  of  which  she  had 
been  the  subject,  seeking  vainly  for  some  phrase  that 
might  lead  her  into  the  paths  of  comprehension  and  peace. 
The  thought  of  Coleman  Van  Duyn  loomed  large,  indeed, 
but  another  figure  loomed  larger.  She  was  new  to  the 
world  of  men,  of  men  of  the  world,  such  as  she  had  met 
since  she  had  been  in  New  York,  but  it  had  never  occurred 
to  her  to  believe  that  there  could  be  a  person  so  base  as 
Philip  Gallatin.  He  weakened  her  faith  in  herself  and  in 
all  the  world.  The  dishonor  he  had  offered  her  had  been 
enough  without  this  added  insult  to  the  memory  of  it. 
Downtown  they  were  using  her  name  scurrilously  in  the 
same  breath  with  that  of  Phil  Gallatin,  speaking  her  name 
lightly  as  they  spoke  of — of  other  women  they  couldn't 
respect.  Phil  Gallatin's  name  and  hers !  It  was  the 
more  bitter,  because  in  her  heart  she  now  knew  that  she 
had  given  him  more  of  her  thoughts  than  any  man  had 
ever  had  before.  Oh,  what  kind  of  a  world  was  this  into 
which  she  had  come,  which  was  made  up  of  men  who 
held  their  own  honor  and  the  honor  of  the  women  of  their 
own  kind  so  lightly?  People  received  him,  she  knew.  She 

122 


THE   CEDARCROFT   SET 

had  even  heard  of  his  being  at  the  Suydams  on  an  evening 
when  she  had  been  there.  She  had  not  seen  him,  and 
thanked  God  for  that;  for  since  their  meeting  in  the 
Park,  some  weeks  ago,  her  conscience  had  troubled  her 
more  than  once,  and  her  heart  had  had  curious  phases  of 
uncertainty.  "  What  if  what  he  had  said  about  his  own 
dependence  on  her  were  true?  "  She  had  questioned  her- 
self, "  What  if,"  as  in  a  few  unrelated  moments  of  moral 
irresponsibility  she  had  madly  speculated,  "  what  if  he 
really  loved  her  as  he  said  he  did — and  that  his  mad 
moment  in  the  woods — their  mad  moment,  as  she  had 
even  fearfully  acknowledged,  was  only  the  supreme  ex- 
pression of  that  reality?  "  He  had  solemnly  sworn  that 
he  had  kept  the  faith — that  since  that  afternoon  in  the 
woods  he  had  not  broken  it.  She  saw  his  dark  eyes  now 
and  the  animal-like  look  of  irresolution  which  had  been  in 
them  when  she  had  turned  away  and  left  him. 

Could  this  man  they  were  talking  of  in  the  clubs 
who  gibed  at  the  virtue  of  women  to  make  a  good  story, 
be  the  same  smiling  fugitive  of  the  north  woods,  the  man 
with  the  laugh  of  a  boy,  the  tenderness  of  a  woman  and 
the  strength  cf  moral  fiber  to  battle  for  her  as  he  had 
done  against  the  odds  of  the  wilderness?  It  was  unbe- 
lievable. And  yet  how  could  Coleman  Van  Duyn  have 
repeated  the  story  if  he  had  not  heard  it?  There  was 
no  reply  for  that.  Weary  at  last,  trying  to  reconcile 
the  two  irreconcilable  facts,  she  fell  into  a  fit  of  nervous 
tears  at  the  end  of  which,  relaxed  and  utterly  exhausted, 
she  sank  to  sleep. 

Even  then,  though  reason  slept,  her  imagination  had! 
no  rest,  and  she  dreamed,  one  vision  predominant — that 
of  a  tall  figure  who  carried  upon  his  back  the  carcass 
of  a  deer,  his  somber  eyes  peering  over  his  shoulder  at  a 
shadow  which  followed  him  in  the  underbrush.  But  when 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


she  spoke  to  the  figure  it  smiled  and  the  shadow  behind 
disappeared.  In  her  dream,  she  found  this  a  curious 
phenomenon,  and  when  the  shadow  returned,  as  it  pres- 
ently did,  she  spoke  again.  The  shadow  vanished  and 
the  smile  appeared  on  the  face  of  the  man  with  the  burden. 
Several  times  she  repeated  this  experiment  and  each  time 
the  same  thing  happened.  But  in  a  moment  the  shadow 
formed  into  a  definite  shape,  the  bulky  shape  of  Coleman 
Van  Duyn  it  seemed,  and  growing  larger  as  it  came, 
closed  in  over  them  both.  This  time  when  she  tried  to 
speak,  her  lips  would  utter  no  sound.  She  awoke  suffo- 
cating, and  sat  up  in  bed,  gasping  for  breath.  She 
looked  about  her  and  gave  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  for  day 
had  broken  and  the  cool -dawn  was  filtering  through  the 
warm  flowered  pattern  on  her  window  hangings,  flooding 
the  room  with  a  rosy  light. 

That  shadow!  It  had  been  so  tangible,  so  real  that 
she  had  fought  at  it  with  her  bare  hands  when  it  had 
descended  above  Phil  Gallatin's  head!  She  lay  awhile 
looking  up  at  the  painted  ceiling,  her  eyes  wide  open, 
fearing  that  she  might  sleep  again  and  the  dream  return ; 
and  then,  without  ringing  for  her  maid,  got  out  of  bed 
abruptly,  slipping  her  small  feet  into  fur-lined  room-slip- 
pers and  putting  on  a  flowered  kimono.  She  was  angry 
at  herself  for  having  dreams  that  could  not  be  explained. 

What  right  had  Phil  Gallatin's  image  to  persist  in  her 
thoughts,  even  when  she  slept?  And  what  did  the  vision 
mean?  The  shadow  must  be  the  shadow  that  had  ever 
followed  the  Gallatins,  and  yet  it  looked  like  Coley  Van 
Duyn !  She  laughed  outright,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice 
echoed  strangely  in  her  ears.  She  had  thought  the  shadow 
ominous,  but  she  could  laugh  now  because  it  looked  like 
Coley ! 

She  drew  her  bath  and  peered  out  of  the  window  at 


THE   CEDARCROFT  SET 

the  sunlight.  Familiar  sounds  and  sights  reassured  her, 
and  with  her  plunge  came  rehabilitation,  physical  and 
mental.  Poor  Coley!  How  jealous  he  was,  and  how  un- 
ghostlike!  So  jealous,  perhaps,  that  he  had  lied  to  her! 
The  thought  of  the  possibility  of  this  moral  turpitude 
caused  her  to  pause  in  the  midst  of  her  toilet  and  smile  at 
her  reflection  in  the  mirror.  It  was  a  gay  little  smile 
which  seemed  out  of  place  on  the  pale  image  which  con- 
fronted her.  She  drew  back  her  curtains  and  the  morning 
sunlight  streamed  into  the  room  bringing  life  and  good 
cheer.  No,  she  would  not — could  not  believe  what  Coley 
had  told  of  Philip  Gallatin. 

She  dressed  quickly,  and  before  her  astonished  maid 
had  her  eyes  open,  had  found  the  dog,  Chicot,  downstairs, 
and  was  out  in  the  frosty  air  breasting  the  keen  north 
wind  in  the  Avenue.  It  was  Kee-way-din  that  kissed  her 
brow,  Kee-way-din  that  brought  the  flush  of  health  and 
youth  into  her  cheeks,  the  breath  of  Kee-way-din  which 
came  with  a  winter  message  of  hopefulness  from  the  dis- 
tant north  woods.  Chicot  was  joyful,  too,  and  bounded 
like  a  harlequin  along  the  walk  and  into  the  reaches  of 
the  Park.  This  was  an  unusual  privilege  for  him,  for  his 
mistress  carried  not  even  a  leash,  and  he  was  bent  on 
making  the  most  of  his  opportunities.  He  seemed  to  be 
aware  that  only  business  of  unusual  importance  would 
take  her  out  at  this  hour  of  the  day,  and  came  back  bark- 
ing and  whining  his  sympathy  and  encouragement.  Like 
most  jesters,  Chicot  was  foolish,  but  he  had  a  heart  under 
his  Eton  jacket,  and  he  took  pains  that  she  should  know  it. 

Chicot's  philosophy  cleared  the  atmosphere.  Her 
course  of  action  now  seemed  surprisingly  clear  to  Jane. 
Philip  Gallatin  being  no  more  and  no  less  to  her  than  any 
other  man,  deserved  exactly  the  consideration  to  which 
her  gratitude  entitled  him,  deserved  the  punishment  which 

125 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


fitted  the  crime — precisely  the  punishment  which  she  had 
'given  him.  If  they  met,  she  would  simply  ignore  him  as 
she  did  other  men  to  whom  she  was  indifferent,  and  she 
thought  that  she  could  trust  herself  to  manage  the  rest 
if,  indeed,  her  rebuff  had  not  already  made  her  intentions 
clear  to  Gallatin.  Refusing  to  meet  him  or  cutting  him  in 
public  would  only  draw  attention  and  give  him  an  impor- 
tance with  which  she  was  far  from  willing  to  invest  him. 
If,  as  she  had  said,  he  was  not  responsible  for  his  actions, 
he  was  a  very  unfortunate  young  man,  and  deserved  her 
pity  as  much  as  her  condemnation;  and  it  was  obvious 
that  he  could  not  be  more  responsible  for  his  actions  in 
New  York  than  elsewhere.  She  still  refused  to  believe 
that  her  name  had  passed  his  lips,  for  of  his  honor  in  all 
things  save  one,  reason  as  well  as  instinct  now  assured 
her. 

The  story  of  Coleman  Van  Duyn's  no  longer  persisted. 
In  spite  of  herself  she  made  a  mental  picture  of  the  two 
men,  and  Van  Duyn  suffered  in  the  comparison.  Coley 
had  lied  to  her.  That  was  all. 

She  walked  briskly  for  twenty  minutes  and  then  sat 
down  on  a  bench,  the  very  one  she  remembered,  upon 
which  Mr.  Gallatin  three  weeks  ago  had  sat  and  told  her 
of  his  misfortunes.  Chicot  came  and  sat  in  front  of  her, 
his  muzzle  on  her  knees,  and  looked  up  rapturously  into 
her  eyes. 

"  You're  such  a  sinful  little  dorglums,  Chicot,"  she 
said  to  him.  "  Don't  you  know  that  ?  To  go  running  off 
and  bringing  back  disagreeable  and  impudent  vagabonds 
for  me  to  send  away?  You're  quite  silly.  And  your 
moustache  is  precisely  like  Colonel  Broadhurst's,  except 
that  it's  painted  black.  Are  you  really  as  wise  as  you 
look?  I  don't  believe  you  are,  because  you're  dressed  like 
a  harlequin,  and  harlequins  are  never  wise,  or  they 

126 


THE   CEDARCROFT   SET 

shouldn't  be  harlequins.  Wise  people  don't  wear  top- 
knots on  their  heads  and  rings  upon  their  tails,  Cliicot. 
Oh,  it's  all  very  well  for  you  to  be  so  devoted  now,  but 
you'd  run  away  at  once  if  another  vagabond  came  along — 
a  tall  vagabond  with  dark  eyes  and  a  deep  voice  that  ap- 
pealed to  your  own  little  vagabond  heart.  You're  faith- 
less, Chicot,  and  I  don't  care  for  you  at  all." 

She  rubbed  his  glossy  ears  between  her  fingers,  and 
he  put  one  dusty  paw  upon  her  lap.  "  No,  I  can't  forgive 
you,"  she  went  on.  "  Never !  All  is  over  between  us. 
You're  a  dissipated  little  vagabond,  that's  what  you  are, 
with  no  sense  of  responsibility  whatever.  I'm  going  to  put 
you  in  a  deep  dark  dungeon,  on  a  diet  of  dust  and  dun- 
garee, where  you  shall  stay  and  meditate  on  your  sins, 
Not  another  maron — not  one.  You're  absolutely  worth- 
less, Chicot,  that's  what  you  are — worthless !  " 

The  knot  on  the  end  of  the  dog's  tail  whisked  ap-s 
proval;  for,  though  he  understood  exactly  what  she  said, 
it  was  the  correct  thing  for  dog-people  to  act  only  by 
tones  of  voice,  but  when  his  mistress  got  up  he  frisked 
homeward  joyfully,  with  a  gratified  sense  of  his  own  im- 
portant share  in  the  conclusion  of  the  business  of  the 
morning. 

Jane  Loring  entered  upon  the  daily  round  thought- 
fully, but  with  a  new  sense  of  her  responsibilities.  For  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  had  had  a  sense  of  the  careless 
cruelty  of  the  world  for  those  thrown  unprotected  upon  j 
its  good  will.  There  was  a  note  of  plethoric  contrition  in 
her  mail  from  Coleman  Van  Duyn.  She  read  it  very  care- 
fully twice  as  though  committing  it  to  memory,  and  then 
tearing  it  into  small  pieces  committed  it  to  the  waste 
basket,  a  hard  little  glitter  in  her  eyes  which  Mr.  Van 
Duyn  might  not  have  cared  to  see.  She  made  a  resolve 
that  from  this  hour  she  would  live  according  to  another 

127 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


code.  She  was  no  longer  the  little  school-girl  from  the 
convent  in  Paris.  She  was  full-fledged  now  and  would 
take  life  as  she  found  it,  her  eyes  widely  opened,  not 
with  the  wonder  of  adolescence,  but  keen  for  the  excite- 
ments as  well  as  the  illusions  that  awaited  her. 

She  got  down  from  her  limousine  at  the  Pennington's 
house  in  Stuyvesant  Square  that  night  alone.  Mr.  Van 
Duyn,  in  his  note,  had  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  stop  for 
her  in  his  machine  and  bring  her  home,  but  she  had  not 
called  him  on  the  'phone  as  he  had  requested.  It  was  a 
dinner  for  some  of  the  members  of  the  Cedarcroft  set,  as 
formal  as  any  function  to  which  this  gay  company  was 
invited,  could  ever  be.  Jane  was  a  moment  late  and 
hurried  upstairs  not  a  little  excited,  for  though  she  had 
known  Nellie  Pennington  in  Pau,  the  guests  were  probably 
strangers  to  her.  In  the  dressing-room,  where  she  found 
Miss  Jaffray  and  another  girl  she  had  not  met,  a  maid 
helped  her  off  with  her  cloak  and  carriage  boots  and, 
when  she  was  ready  to  go  down,  handed  her  a  silver  tray 
bearing  a  number  of  small  envelopes.  She  selected  the 
one  which  bore  her  name,  carelessly,  wondering  whether 
her  fortunes  for  the  evening  were  to  be  entrusted  to  Mr. 
|Worthington  or  to  Mr.  Van  Duyn,  to  find  on  the  enclosed 
card  the  name  of  Philip  Gallatin. 

She  paled  a  little,  hesitated  and  lingered  in  the  dark- 
Jness  by  the  door  under  the  mental  plea  of  rearranging  her 
[roses,  her  mind  in  a  tumult.  She  had  hardly  expected  to 
find  him  here,  for  Mr.  Gallatin,  she  had  heard,  hunted  no 
more  and  Nellie  Pennington  had  never  even  mentioned 
his  name.  What  should  she  do?  To  say  that  she  did  not 
wish  to  go  in  with  a  man  high  in  the  favor  of  her  host 
and  hostess  as  well  as  every  one  else,  without  giving  a 
reason  for  her  refusal  would  be  gratuitously  insulting  to 
her  hostess  as  well  as  to  Mr.  Gallatin.  She  glanced  help- 

128 


THE   CEDARCROFT   SET 

lessly  at  Nina  Jaffray,  who  was  leaning  toward  the  pier 
glass,  a  stick  of  lip-salve  in  her  fingers,  and  realized  at 
once  that  there  was  to  be  no  rescue  from  her  predicament. 
Besides,  changing  cards  with  Miss  Jaffray  would  not  help 
matters,  for  over  in  the  men's  dressing  room  Mr.  Gallatin 
by  this  time  had  read  the  card  which  told  him  that  Miss 
Loring  was  to  be  his  dinner  partner. 

She  could  not  understand  how  such  a  thing  had  hap- 
pened. Had  Nellie  Pennington  heard?  That  was  im- 
possible. There  were  but  three  people  in  New  York  who 
knew  about  Mr.  Gallatin  and  herself,  and  the  third  one 
was  Coley  Van  Duyn,  who  had  guessed  at  their  relations. 
Could  Philip  Gallatin  have  dared — dared  to  ask  this  favor 
of  their  hostess  after  Jane's  repudiation  of  him  in  the 
Park?  She  couldn't  believe  that  either.  Fate  alone  could 
have  conspired  to  produce  a  situation  so  full  of  exquisite 
possibilities.  She  waited  a  moment,  gathering  her  shat- 
tered resources ;  and  with  that  skill  at  dissimulation  which 
men  sometimes  ape,  but  never  actually  attain,  she  thrust 
her  arm  through  Miss  Jaffray's  and  the  two  of  them  went 
down  the  wide  stairway,  a  very  pretty  picture  of  youth 
and  unconcern. 

Jane's  eyes  swept  the  room  with  obtrusive  carelessness, 
and  took  in  every  one  in  it,  including  the  person  for  whom 
the  glance  was  intended,  who  saw  it  from  a  distant  corner, 
and  marveled  at  the  smile  with  which  she  entered  and 
greeted  her  hostess. 

"  Hello,  Nina !  Jane,  dear,  so  glad  you  could  come !  " 
said  Nellie  Pennington.  "  Oh,  what  a  perfectly  darling 
dress !  You  went  to  Doucet  after  all — for  your  debutante 
trousseau.  Perhaps,  I'd  better  call  it  your  layette — you 
absurd  child !  Oh,  for  the  roses  of  yesterday !  You  know 
Betty  Tremaine,  don't  you?  And  Mr.  Savage?  Coley 
jdo  stop  glaring  and  tell  Phil  Gallatin  to  come  here  at 

129 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


once.  My  dear,  you're  going  in  with  the  nicest  man — 
a  very  great  friend  of  mine,  and  I  want  you  to  be  particu- 
larly sweet  to  him.  Hear?  Mr.  Gallatin — you  haven't 
met — I  know.  Here  he  is  now.  Miss  Loring — Mr.  Gal- 
latin." 

Jane  nodded  and  coolly  extended  her  hand.  "  Plow  do 
you  do,"  she  said,  tepidly  polite,  and  then  quickly  to  her 
hostess.  "It  was  very  nice  of  you  to  think  of  me,  Nellie, 
It  seems  ages  since  Pau,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Ages !  You  unpleasant  person.  When  you  get  as 
old  as  I  am,  you'll  never  mention  the  flight  of  time. 
Ugh!" 

Her  shudder  was  very  effective.  Nellie  Pennington 
was  thirty-five,  looked  twenty,  and  knew  it. 

"  What  difference  does  it  make,"  laughed  Jane, 
"  when  Time  forgets  one  ?  " 

"  Very  prettily  said,  my  dear.  Time  may  amble,  but 
he's  too  nimble  to  let  you  get  him  by  the  forelock."  And 
turning  she  greeted  the  late  comers. 

Jane  turned  to  Mr.  Gallatin,  who  was  saying  some- 
thing at  her  ear. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  that  I — I  am  responsible  for 
this  situation,"  he  repeated. 

"  What  situation,  Mr.  Gallatin?  " 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  that  I  knew  I  was  to  go  in  to 
dinner  with  you." 

She  laughed.  "  I  hadn't  really  thought  very  much 
about  it." 

"  I  didn't — I  didn't  even  know  you  were  to  be  here. 
It's  an  accident — a  cruel  one.  I  wouldn't  have  had  it  hap- 
pen for  anything  in  the  world." 

"  Do  you  think  that's  very  polite  ?  "  she  asked  lightljr, 
130 


"  I  mean — "  he  stammered,  "  that  you'll  have  to  acquit 
me  of  any  intention " 

"  You  mean,"  she  interrupted  quickly,  with  widely 
Opened  eyes,  "  that  you  don't  want  to  go  in  to  dinner  with 
me?  I  think  that  can  easily  be  arranged,"  and  she  turned 
away  from  him  toward  her  hostess.  But  he  quickly  inter- 
posed. 

"  Don't,  Miss  Loring.  Don't  do  that.  It  isn't  neces- 
sary. I  didn't  want  your  evening  spoiled." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand,"  she  said,  and  the 
curl  of  her  lip  did  not  escape  him.  "That  could  hardly 
happen.  But,  if  you  have  any  doubts  about  it,  per- 
haps  " 

*'  It  was  of  you  I  was  thinking ': 

"  That's  very  kind,  I'm  sure.  I  don't  see  any  reason 
why  we  shouldn't  get  on  admirably.  I'm  not  so  difficult 
as  you  seem  to  suppose.  Why  should  you  spoil  my  even- 
ing, Mr.  Gallatin?  " 

She  turned  and  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes ;  and  he 
knew  then  what  he  had  suspected  at  first,  that  she  meant 
to  deny  that  they  had  ever  met  before. 

He  gazed  at  her  calmly,  a  slow  smile  twisting  his  lips, 
acknowledging  her  rebuke,  and  acquiescing  silently  in  her 
position. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  wish  to  spoil  it.  I'm  only  too  happy 
— to — to  be  so  much  honored." 

"  There !  "  she  laughed  easily.  "  You  can  be  polite, 
can't  you?  Do  you  hunt,  Mr.  Gallatin?  "  quickly  chang- 
ing the  topic  to  one  less  personal.  "  I  thought  nobody 
ever  dined  here  unless  he  was  at  least  first  cousin  to  a 
Centaur." 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  laughed.  "  Mrs.  Pennington  isn't  so 
exclusive  as  that.  But  I'm  sure  she'd  have  her  own 
hunters  in  to  table  if  she  could.  This  is  quite  the  liveliest 

131 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


house !  Mrs.  Pennington  is  the  most  wonderful  woman  in 
the  world,  and  the  reason  is  that  she  absolutely  refuses 
to  be  bored.  She  likes  Centaurs  because  they're  mostly 
natural  creatures  like  herself,  but  she  hasn't  any  use  for 
Dinosaurs !  " 

A  general  movement  toward  the  table,  and  Jane  took 
Phil  Gallatin's  arm  and  followed.  A  huge  horse-shoe  of 
Beauties  formed  the  centerpiece,  from  which  emerged  the 
Cedarhurst  Steeplechase  Cup,  won  three  years  in  succes- 
sion by  Dick  Pennington.  The  decorations  of  the  room 
were  in  red  and  gold,  and  a  miniature  steeplechase  course 
was  laid  around  the  table  with  small  fences,  brush  and 
water  jumps,  over  which  tiny  equestrians  in  pink  coats 
gayly  cavorted.  Miss  Loring  found  to  her  delight  that 
the  neighbor  on  her  other  side  was  Mr.  Worthington.  At 
least  she  was  not  to  be  without  resource  if  the  situation 
grew  beyond  her.  But  Mr.  Gallatin  having  made  token  of 
his  acquiescence,  gave  no  sign  of  further  intrusion.  His 
talk  was  of  the  people  about  them,  of  their  ambitions  and 
their  lack  of  them,  of  motoring,  of  country  houses  and 
the  latest  news  in  Vanity  Fair,  to  which  she  listened  with 
interest,  casually  questioning  or  venturing  an  opinion. 
The  only  role  possible  for  her  was  one  of  candor,  and  she 
played  it  with  cool  deliberation,  carefully  guiding  his  re- 
marks into  the  well-buoyed  channels  of  the  commonplace. 

And  while  he  talked  amusedly,  gayly  even,  in  the 
glances  that  she  stole  at  his  profile,  she  found  that  he  had 
grown  thinner,  and  that  the  dark  shadows  under  his  eyes, 
which  she  remembered,  were  still  to  be  found  there.  The 
fingers  of  his  right  hand  slowly  revolved  the  stem  of  a 
flower.  All  of  his  wine  glasses  she  discovered  he  had 
turned  bowl  downward.  His  cocktail  he  had  slowly  pushed 
aside  until  it  was  now  hidden  in  the  garland  of  roses 
which  circled  the  table.  She  felt  quite  sorry  for  him,  as 

132 


THE   CEDARCROFT   SET 

she  had  felt  last  summer,  and  now,  better  attuned  to  de- 
traction than  to  praise,  her  mind  and  instinct  both  pro- 
claimed him,  in  spite  of  herself — a  gentleman.  Colemaii 
Van  Duyn  had  lied  to  her.  She  was  conscious  of  Coley 
surveying  her  from  his  seat  across  the  table  with  a  jaun- 
diced eye,  and  this  surveillance,  while  it  made  her  uncom- 
fortable, served  to  feed  the  flame  of  her  ire.  Coley  Van 
Duyn  had  lied  to  her,  and  the  lot  of  liars  was  oblivion. 

A  pause  in  the  conversation  when  Nina  Jaffray's  voice 
broke  in  on  Mr.  Gallatin's  right. 

"It  isn't  true,  is  it,  Phil?  " 

He  questioned. 

"  What  they're  saying  about  you,"  she  went  on. 

He  laughed  uneasily.  "  Yes,  of  course,  if  it's  some- 
thing dreadful  enough." 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  dreadful,  Phil,  only  so  enchantingly  sin- 
ful that  it  doesn't  sound  like  you  in  the  least." 

"  No,  Nina.  It  isn't  true.  Enchanting  sin  and  I  are 
strangers.  Miss  Loring  and  I  have  just  been  talking 
about  original  sin  in  saddle-horses.  I  contend " 

"  Phil,  I  won't  be  diverted  in  this  way.  I  believe  it's 
true." 

"  Then  what's  the  use  of  questioning  me?  " 

"  I'm  foolish  enough  to  want  you  to  deny  it." 

"  Even  if  it  is  an  enchanting  sin?  You  might  at  least 
let  me  flatter  myself  that  much." 

Miss  Jaffray's  long  eyes  closed  the  fraction  of  an 
inch,  as  she  surveyed  him  aslant  through  her  lashes,  then 
her  lips  broke  into  a  smile  which  showed  her  small  and 
perfectly  even  teeth. 

"  You  shan't  evade  me  any  longer.  I'm  insanely 
jealous,  Phil.  Who  was  the  girl  you  got  lost  with  in  the 
woods  ?  " 

Gallatin  passed  a  miserable  moment.  He  had  sensed 
133 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


the  question  and  had  tried  to  prevent  it,  cold  with  dismay 
that  Miss  Loring  should  be  in  earshot.  He  flushed  pain- 
fully and  for  his  life's  sake  could  make  no  reply. 

"  It's  true — you're  blushing.  I  could  forgive  you  for 
the  sin,  but  for  blushing  for  it — never !  " 

Gallatin  had  hoped  that  Miss  Loring  might  have 
turned  to  her  other  neighbor,  but  he  had  not  dared  to 
look.  Now  he  felt  rather  than  saw  that  she  was  a  listener 
to  the  dialogue,  and  he  heard  her  voice — cool,  clear,  and 
insistent,  just  at  his  ear: 

"  How  very  interesting,  Nina !  Mr.  Gallatin's  sins  are 
finding  him  out?  " 

"  No,  /  am,"  said  the  girl.  "  I've  known  Phil  Gallatin 
since  we  were  children,  and  he  has  always  been  the  most 
unsusceptible  of  persons.  He  has  never  had  any  time 
for  girls.  And  now !  Now  by  his  guilty  aspect  he  tacitlj 
acknowledges  a  love  affair  in  the  Canadian  wilderness 
with  a " 

"  Oh,  do  stop,  Nina,"  he  said  in  suppressed  tones. 
"  Miss  Loring  can  hardly  be  interested  in — 

"  But  I  am,"  put  in  Miss  Loring  coolly.  "  Do  tell 
me  something  more,  Nina.  Was  she  young  and  pretty?  " 

"  Ask  this  guilty  wretch " 

"  Don't  you  know  who  she  was  ?  What  was  her  name  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  I  want  to  find  out.  And  nobody 
seems  to  know,  except  Phil." 

"  Do  tell  us,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  She  had  no  name,"  said  Mr.  Gallatin  very  quietly. 
"  There  was  no  girl  in  the  woods." 

"  A  woman,  then?  "  queried  Miss  Jaffray. 

"  Neither  girl — nor  woman — only  a  Dryad.  The 
woods  are  full  of  them.  My  Indian  guide  insisted 
that " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  sha'n't  get  out  of  it  so  easily,  Phil,  and 
134. 


O 

Q 


THE   CEDAECEOFT   SET 

I  insist  upon  your  sticking  to  facts.  A  Dryad,  indeed, 
with  the  latest  thing  in  fishing  rods  and  creels !  " 

Miss  Jaffray  had  not  for  a  moment  taken  her  gaze 
from  Gallatin's  face,  but  now  she  changed  her  tone  to  one 
of  impudent  raillery.  "  You  know,  Phil,  you've  always 
held  women  in  such  high  regard  that  I've  always  thought 
you  positively  tiresome.  And  now,  just  when  I  find  you 
developing  the  most  unusual  and  interesting  qualities,  you 
deny  their  very  existence!  I  was  just  getting  ready  to 
fall  madly  in  love  with  you.  How  disappointing  you  are ! 
Isn't  he,  Jane?" 

"  Dreadfully  so,"  said  Miss  Loring.  "  Tell  it  all,  Mr. 
Gallatin,  by  all  means,  since  we  already  know  the  half. 
I'm  sure  the  reality  can't  be  nearly  as  dreadful  as  we 
already  think  it  is." 

Her  effrontery  astounded  him,  but  he  met  her  fairly. 

"  There's  nothing  to  tell.  If  an  enchantingly  sinful 
man  met  an  enchantingly  helpless  Dryad — what  would 
be  likely  to  happen?  Can  you  tell  us,  Miss  Loring?  " 

Jane's  weapons  went  flying  for  a  moment,  but  she 
recovered  them  adroitly. 

"  The  situation  has  possibilities  of  which  you  are  in. 
every  way  worthy,  I  don't  doubt,  Mr.  Gallatin.  The 
name  of  your  Dryad  will,  of  course,  be  revealed  in  time. 
I'm  sure  if  Miss  Jaffray  pleads  with  you  long  enough 
you'll  gladly  tell  her." 

Nina  Jaffray  laughed. 

"  Come,  Phil,  there's  a  dear.  Do  tell  a  fellow.  I've 
really  got  to  know,  if  only  for  the  fun  of  scratching  her 
eyes  out.  I'm  sure  I  ought  to — oughtn't  I,  Jane?  " 

But  Miss  Loring  had  already  turned  and  was  deep 
in  conversation  with  Mr.  Worthington,  who  for  twenty 
minutes  at  least,  had  been  trying  to  attract  her  attention. 


135 


XII 

NELLIE    PENNINGTON   CUTS    IN 

IT  was  the  custom  at  Richard  Pennington's  dinners 
for  the  men  to  follow  the  ladies  at  once  to  the  library 
or  drawing-room  if  they  cared  to,  for  Nellie  Pen- 
nington  liked  smoking  and  made  no  bones  about  it.  Peo- 
ple who  dined  with  her  were  expected  to  do  exactly  as 
they  pleased,  and  this  included  the  use  of  tobacco  in  all 
parts  of  the  house.  She  was  not  running  a  kindergarten, 
she  insisted,  and  the  mothers  of  timorous  buds  were  amply 
warned  that  they  must  look  to  the  habits  of  their  tender 
offspring.  And  so  after  the  ices  were  served,  when  the 
women  departed,  some  of  their  dinner  partners  followed 
them  into  the  other  rooms,  finding  more  pleasure  in  the 
cigarette  a  deux  than  in  the  stable  talk  at  the  dismantled 
dining-table. 

Phil  Gallatin  rose  and  followed  the  ladies  to  the  door 
and  then  returned,  sank  into  a  vacant  chair  and  began 
smoking,  thinking  deeply  of  the  new  difficulty  into  which 
Nina  Jaffray  had  plunged  him.  A  small  group  of  men 
remained,  Larry  Kane,  William  Worthington,  Ogden 
Spencer,  and  Egerton  Savage,  who  gathered  at  the  end 
of  the  table  around  their  host. 

"  Selected  your  1913  model  yet,  Bibby?  "  Pennington 
asked  with  a  laugh.  "What  is  she  to  be  this  time?  In- 
side control,  of  course,  maximum  flexibility,  minimum 
friction " 

"  Oh,  forget  it,  Dick,"  said  Worthington,  sulkily. 

136 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS   IN 

"No  offense,  you  know.  Down  on  your  luck?  Cheer 
up,  old  chap,  you'll  be  in  love  again  presently.  There  are 
as  many  good  fish  in  the  sea " 

"  I'm  not  fishing,"  put  in  Bibby  with  some  dignity. 

"  By  George !  "  whispered  Larry  Kane,  in  awed  tones, 
"  I  believe  he's  got  it  again.  Oh,  Bibby,  when  you  marry, 
Venus  will  go  into  sackcloth  and  ashes !  " 

"  So  will  Bibby,"  said  Spencer.  "  Marriage  isn't  his 
line  at  all.  You  know  better  than  that,  don't  you,  Bibby. 
No  demnition  bow-wows  on  your  Venusberg — what? 
You've  got  the  secret.  Love  often  and  you'll  love  longer. 
Aren't  I  right,  Bibby?  " 

"  Oh,  let  Bibby  alone,"  sighed  Savage.  "  He's  got  the 
secret.  I  take  my  hat  off  to  him.  Every  year  he  bathes 
in  the  Fountain  of  Youth,  and  like  the  chap  in  the  book — 
what's  his  name? — gazes  at  his  rejuvenated  reflection  in 
the  limpid  pool  of  virgin  eyes.  Look  at  him !  Forty-five, 
if  he's  a  day,  and  looks  like  a  stage  juvenile." 

Gallatin  listened  to  the  chatter  with  dull  ears,  smiling 
perfunctorily,  not  because  he  enjoyed  this  particular  kind 
of  humor,  but  because  he  did  not  choose  to  let  his  silence 
become  conspicuous.  And  when  the  sounds  from  a  piano 
were  heard  and  the  men  rose  to  join  the  ladies,  he  had 
made  a  resolve  to  see  Jane  Loring  alone  before  the  even- 
ing was  gone. 

In  the  drawing-room  Betty  Tremaine  was  playing  airs 
from  the  latest  Broadway  musical  success,  which  Durwell 
De  Lancy  was  singing  with  a  throaty  baritone.  Jane 
Loring  sat  on  a  sofa  next  to  her  hostess,  both  of  them 
laughing  at  young  Perrine,  who  began  showing  the  com- 
pany a  new  version  of  the  turkey-trot. 

"  Do  a  '  Dance  Apache,'  Freddy,"  cried  Nina  Jaffray, 
springing  to  her  feet.  "  You  know,"  and  before  he  knew 
what  she  was  about,  he  was  seized  by  the  arms,  and  while 

137 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Miss  Tremaine  caught  the  spirit  of  the  thing  in  a  gay 
cadence  of  the  Boulevards,  the  two  of  them  flew  like  mad 
things  around  the  room,  to  the  imminent  hazard  of  furni- 
ture and  its  occupants.  There  was  something  barbaric 
in  their  wild  rush  as  they  whirled  apart  and  came  together 
again  and  the  dance  ended  only  when  Freddy  Perrine 
catapulted  into  a  corner,  breathless  and  exhausted.  Miss 
Jaffray  remained  upright,  her  slender  breast  heaving,  her 
eyes  dark  with  excitement,  glancing  from  one  to  another 
with  the  bold  challenge  of  a  Bacchante  fresh  from  the 
groves  of  Naxos.  There  was  uproarious  applause  and  a 
demand  for  repetition,  but  as  no  one  volunteered  to  take 
the  place  of  the  exhausted  Perrine,  the  music  ceased  and 
Miss  Jaffray,  after  rearranging  her  disordered  hair,  threw 
herself  into  a  vacant  chair. 

"  You're  wonderful,  Nina !  "  said  Nellie  Pennington, 
languidly,  "  but  how  can  you  do  it  ?  It's  more  like  wrest- 
ling than  dancing?  " 

"  I  like  wrestling,"  said  Miss  Jaffray,  unperturbedly. 

Auction  tables  were  formed  in  the  library  and  the 
company  divided  itself  into  parties  of  three  or  four,  each 
with  its  own  interests.  Gallatin  soon  learned  that  it 
might  prove  difficult  to  carry  his  resolution  into  effect,  for 
Miss  Loring  was  the  center  of  a  group  which  seemed  to 
defy  disruption,  and  Coleman  Van  Duyn  immediately  pre- 
empted the  nearest  chair,  from  which  nothing  less  than 
dynamite  would  have  availed  to  dislodge  him.  Gallatin 
had  heard  that  Van  Duyn  had  been  with  the  Lorings  in 
Canada,  and  had  wondered  vaguely  whether  this  fact 
could  have  anything  to  do  with  that  gentleman's  sudden 
change  of  manner  toward  himself.  The  two  men  had 
gone  to  the  same  school,  and  the  same  university;  and 
while  they  had  never  been  by  temper  or  inclination  in  the 
slightest  degree  suited  to  each  other,  circumstances  threw 

•138 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS   IN 

them  often  together  and  as  fellow  club-mates  they  had 
owed  and  paid  each  other  a  tolerable  civility.  But  this 
winter  Van  Duyn's  nods  had  been  stiff  and  his  manner 
taciturn.  Personally,  Phil  Gallatin  did  not  care  whether 
Coleman  Van  Duyn  was  civil  or  not,  and  only  thought 
of  the  matter  in  its  possible  reference  to  Jane  Loring. 
Gallatin  leaned  over  the  back  of  the  sofa  in  conversation 
with  Nellie  Pennington,  listening  with  one  ear  to  Coley's 
rather  heavy  attempts  at  amiability. 

After  a  while  his  hostess  moved  to  a  couch  in  the 
corner  and  motioned  for  him  to  take  the  place  beside  her. 

"  You  know,  Phil,"  she  began,  reproving  him  in  her 
softest  tones,  "  I've  been  thinking  about  you  a  lot  lately. 
Aren't  you  flattered?  You  ought  to  be.  I've  made  up 
my  mind  to  speak  to  you  with  all  the  seriousness  of  my 
advanced  years." 

"'Yes,  Mother,  dear,"  laughed  Phil.  "  What  is  it  now? 
Have  I  been  breaking  window-panes  or  pulling  the  cat's 
tail?  " 

"  Neither — and  both,"  she  returned  calmly.  "  But  it's 
your  sins  of  omission  that  bother  me  most.  You're  in- 
corrigibly lazy !  " 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,  settling  himself  comfortably.  "  I 
know  it." 

"  And  aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?  " 

"  Awfully." 

"  I'm  told  that  you're  never  in  your  office,  that  you've 
let  your  practice  go  to  smash,  that  your  partners  are  on 
the  point  of  casting  you  into  the  outer  darkness." 

"  Oh,  that's  true,"  he  said  wearily.  "  I've  practically 
withdrawn  from  the  firm,  Nellie.  I  didn't  bring  any  busi- 
ness in.  It's  even  possible  that  I  kept  some  of  it  out.  I'm 
a  moral  and  physical  incubus.  In  fact,  John  Kenyon  has 
almost  told  me  so." 

139 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  " 
"Do? 

A  Loaf  of  Bread  beneath  the  Bough, 

A  Flask  of  Wine,  a  Book  of  Verse — and  thou. 

If  you'll  come  with  me,  Nellie." 

There  was  no  response  of  humor  in  Nellie  Pennington's 
expression. 

"  No,"  she  said  quietly.  "  Not  I.  I  want  you  to  be 
serious,  Phil."  She  paused  a  moment,  looking  down,  and 
when  her  eyes  sought  his  again  he  saw  in  them  the  spark 
of  a  very  genuine  interest.  "  I  don't  know  whether  you 
know  it  or  not,  Phil,  but  I'm  really  very  fond  of  you. 
And  if  I  didn't  understand  you  as  well  as  I  do,  of  course, 
I  wouldn't  dare  to  be  so  frank." 

Philip  Gallatin  inclined  his  head  slightly. 

"  Go  on,  please,"  he  said. 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  clutched  his  arm 
with  her  strong  fingers. 

"  I  want  you  to  wake  up,  Phil,"  she  said  with  sudden 
insistence.  "  I  want  you  to  wake  up,  to  open  your  eyes 
wide — wide,  do  you  hear,  to  stretch  your  intellectual  fibers 
and  learn  something  of  your  own  strength.  You're  asleep, 
Boy!  You've  been  asleep  for  years!  I  want  you  to 
wake  up — and  prove  the  stuff  that's  in  you.  You're  the 
last  of  your  line,  Phil,  the  very  last;  but  whatever  the 
faults  your  fathers  left  you,  you've  got  their  genius, 
too." 

Gallatin  was  slowly  shaking  his  head. 

"  Not  that— only " 

"  I  know  it,"  she  said  proudly.  "  You  can't  hide  from 
everybody,  Phil.  I  still  remember  those  cases  you  won 
when  you  were  just  out  of  law-school — that  political  one 

140 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS   IN 

and  the  other  of  the  drunkard  indicted  on  circumstantial 
evidence " 

"  I  was  interested  in  that,"  he  muttered. 

"  You'll  be  interested  again.  You  must  be.  Do  you 
hear?  You've  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways,  Phil, 
and  you've  got  to  make  a  choice.  You're  drifting  with 
the  tide,  and  I  don't  like  it,  waiting  for  Time  to  provide 
your  Destiny  when  you've  got  the  making  of  it  in  your 
own  hands.  You've  got  to  put  to  sea,  hoist  what  sail 
you've  got  and  brave  the  elements." 

"  I'm  a  derelict,  Nellie,"  he  said  painfully. 

"  Shame !  Phil,"  she  whispered.  "  A  derelict  is  a  ship 
without  a  soul.  You  a  derelict!  Then  society  is  made 
up  of  derelicts,  discards  from  the  game  of  opportunity. 
Some  of  us  are  rich.  We  think  we  can  afford  to  be  idle. 
Ambition  doesn't  matter  to  such  men  as  Dick,  or  Larry 
Kane,  or  Egerton  Savage.  Their  lines  were  drawn  in  easy 
places,  their  lives  were  ready-made  from  the  hour  that 
they  were  born.  But  you!  There's  no  excuse  for  you. 
You  are  not  rich.  As  the  world  considers  such  things, 
you're  poor  and  so  you're  born  for  better  things !  You've 
got  the  Gallatin  intellect,  the  Gallatin  solidity,  the  Galla*- 
tin  cleverness " 

"  And  the  Gallatin  insufficiency,"  he  finished  for  her. 

"  A  fig  for  your  vices,"  she  said  contemptuously.  "  It's 
the  little  men  of  this  world  that  never  have  any  vices.  No 
big  man  ever  was  without  them.  Whatever  dims  the 
luster  of  the  spirit,  the  white  fire  of  intellect  burns  stead- 
ily on,  unless —  "  she  paused  and  glanced  at  him,  quickly, 
lowering  her  voice — "  unless  the  luster  of  the  spirit  is 
dimmed  too  long,  Phil." 

He  clasped  his  long  fingers  around  one  of  his  knees 
and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  rug. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said  quietly. 
141 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  You  don't  mind  my  speaking  to  you  so,  do  you, 
Phil,  dear?  " 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  then  opening  them  as  though 
with  an  effort,  looked  at  her  squarely. 

"No,  Nellie." 

Her  firm  hand  pressed  his  strongly.  "  Let  me  help 
you,  Phil.  There  are  not  many  fellows  I'd  go  out  of  my 
way  for,  not  many  of  them  are  worth  it.  Phil,  you've 
got  to  take  hold  at  once — right  away.  Make  a  fresh 
start." 

"  I  did  take  hold  for — for  a  good  while  and  then — 
and  then  I  slipped  a  cog " 

"  Why?     You  mean  it  was  too  hard  for  you?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all.  It  had  got  so  that  I  wasn't  both- 
ered— not  much — that  is — I  let  go  purposely."  He 
stopped  suddenly.  "I  can't  tell  you  why.  I  guess  I'm  a 
fool — that's  all." 

She  examined  his  face  with  a  new  interest.  There  was 
something  here  she  could  not  understand.  She  had  known 
Phil  Gallatin  since  his  boyhood  and  had  always  believed 
in  him.  She  had  watched  his  development  with  the  eyes 
of  an  elder  sister,  and  had  never  given  up  the  hope  that 
he  might  carry  on  the  traditions  of  his  blood  in  all  things 
save  the  one  to  be  dreaded.  She  had  never  talked  with 
him  before.  Indeed,  she  would  not  have  done  so  to-night 
had  it  not  been  that  a  strong  friendly  impulse  had  urged 
her.  She  made  it  a  practice  never  to  interfere  in  the 
lives  of  others,  if  interference  meant  the  cost  of  needless 
pain ;  but  as  she  had  said  to  him,  Phil  Gallatin  was  worth 
helping.  She  was  thankful,  too,  that  he  had  taken  her 
advice  kindly. 

What  was  this  he  was  saying  about  letting  go  pur- 
posely. What — but  she  had  reached  the  ends  of  friend- 
liness and  the  beginnings  of  curiosity. 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS   IN 

"  No,  you're  not  a  fool,  Phil.  You  sha'n't  call  your- 
self names."  And  then,  "  You  say  you  weren't  bothered — 
much?  " 

"  No.  Things  had  got  a  good  deal  easier  for  me.  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  hopeful  for  the  future.  It  had  cost 
me  something,  but  I  had  got  my  grip.  I  had  started  in 
at  the  office  again,  and  Kenyon  had  given  me  some  im- 
portant work  to  do.  Good  old  Uncle  John !  He  seemed 
to  know  that  I  was  trying." 

He  stopped  a  moment  and  then  went  on  rapidly.  "  He 
turned  me  loose  on  a  big  corporation  case  the  firm  was 
preparing  for  trial.  I  threw  myself  into  the  thing,  body 
and  soul.  I  worked  like  a  dog — night  and  day,  and  every 
hour  that  I  worked  my  grip  on  myself  grew  stronger.  I 
was  awake  then,  Nellie,  full  of  enthusiasm,  my  old  love  of 
my  profession  glowing  at  a  white  heat  that  absorbed  and 
swallowed  all  other  fires.  It  seemed  that  I  found  out 
some  things  the  other  fellows  had  overlooked,  and  a  few 
days  before  the  big  case  was  to  be  called,  Kenyon  asked 
me  if  I  didn't  want  to  take  charge.  I  don't  believe  he 
knew  how  good  that  made  me  feel.  I  seemed  to  have  come 
into  my  own  again.  I  knew  I  could  win  and  I  told  him  so. 
So  he  and  Hood  dropped  out  and  turned  the  whole  thing 
over  to  me.  I  had  it  all  at  my  fingers'  ends.  You  know, 
I  once  learned  a  little  law,  Nellie,  and  I  was  figuring  on  a 
great  victory." 

As  Gallatin  spoke,  his  long  frame  slowly  straightened, 
his  head  drew  well  back  on  his  shoulders  and  a  new  fire 
glowed  in  his  eyes. 

"  It  was  great ! "  he  went  on.  "I  don't  believe  any 
man  alive  ever  felt  more  sure  of  himself  than  I  did  when 
I  wound  up  tliat  case  and  shut  up  my  desk  for  the  day. 
If  I  won,  and  win  I  should,  it  would  give  Kenyon,  Hood 
and  Gallatin  a  lot  of  prestige.  Things  looked  pretty 

143 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


bright  that  night.  I  began  to  see  the  possibilities  of  a 
career,  Nellie,  a  real  career  that  even  a  Gallatin  might  be 
proud  of." 

Pie  came  to  a  sudden  pause,  his  figure  crumpled,  and 
the  glow  in  his  eyes  faded  as  though  a  film  had  fallen 
across  them. 

"  And  then?  "  asked  Nellie  Pennington. 

"  And  then,"  he  muttered  haltingly,  "  something  hap- 
pened to  me — I  had  a — a  disappointment — and  things 
went  all  wrong  inside  of  me — I  didn't  care  what  hap- 
pened. I  went  to  the  bad,  Nellie,  clean — clean  to  the 
bad " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Pennington  softly,  "  I  heard. 
That's  why  I  spoke  to  you  to-night.  You  haven't 
been " 

"  No,  thank  God,  I'm  keeping  straight  now,  but  it  did 
hurt  to  have  done  so  well  and  then  to  have  failed  so 
utterly.  You  see  the  case  I  was  speaking  of — Kenyon, 
Hood  and  Gallatin  had  turned  the  whole  business  over  to 
me,  and  I  wasn't  there  to  plead.  They  couldn't  find  me. 
There  was  a  postponement,  of  course,  but  my  opportunity 
had  passed  and  it  won't  come  again." 

He  stopped,  glanced  at  her  face  and  then  turned 
away.  "  I  don't  know  why  I've  told  you  these  things,"  he 
finished  soberly,  "  for  sympathy  is  hardly  the  kind  of 
thing  a  man  in  my  position  can  stand  for." 

Nellie  Pennington  remained  silent.  Her  interest  was 
deep  and  her  wonder  uncontrollable.  Therefore,  being  a 
woman,  she  did  not  question.  She  only  waited.  Her 
woman's  eyes  to-night  had  been  wide  open,  and  she  had 
already  made  a  rapid  diagnosis  of  which  her  curiosity 
compelled  a  confirmation. 

They  were  alone  at  their  end  of  the  room.  Miss 
Loring  and  Mr.  Van  Duyn  had  gone  in  to  the  bridge  tables 

144 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS   IN 

and  Egerton  Savage  was  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with 
Betty  Tremaine,  whose  fingers  straying  over  the  piano, 
were  running  softly  through  an  aria  from  "  La  Boheme." 

"  You  know,  Nellie,"  he  went  on  presently,  "  I'm  not 
in  the  habit  of  talking  about  my  own  affairs,  even  with 
my  friends,  but  I  believe  it's  done  me  a  lot  of  good  to 
talk  to  you.  You'll  forgive  me,  won't  you?  " 

She  nodded  and  then  went  on  quickly.  "  The  trouble 
with  you  is  that  you  don't  talk  enough  about  yourself, 
Phil.  You're  a  seething  mass  of  introspection.  It  isn't 
healthy.  Friends  are  only  conversational  chopping- 
blocks  after  all.  Why  don't  you  use  them?  Me — for  in- 
stance. I'm  safe,  sane,  and  I  confess  a  trifle  curious." 
She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  keenly: 

"  It's  a  girl,  of  course." 

He  raised  his  head  quickly,  and  then  lowered  it  as 
quickly  again. 

"  No,  there  isn't  any  girl." 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is.    I've  known  it  for  quite  two  hours." 

"  How?  "  he  asked  in  alarm. 

She  waved  her  fan  with  a  graceful  gesture.  "  Second 
sight,  a  sixth  sense,  an  appreciation  for  the  fourth  di- 
mension— in  short — the  instinct  of  a  woman." 

"You  mean  that  you  guessed?  " 

"  No,  that  I  perceived." 

"  It  takes  a  woman  to  perceive  something  which  doesn't 
exist,"  he  said  easily. 

She  turned  and  examined  him  with  level  brows.  "  Then 
why  did  you  admit  it?  " 

"  I  didn't." 

She  leaned  back  among  her  pillows  and  laughed  at  him 
mockingly.  "Oh,  Phil!  Must  I  be  brutal?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  the  girl — is  here — to-night." 
145 


"  That  is  not  true,"  he  stammered.  "  She  is  not 
here." 

Mrs.  Pennlngton  did  not  spare  him. 

"  A  moment  ago — you  denied  that  there  was  a  girl. 
Now  you're  willing  to  admit  that  she's  only  absent.  Please 
don't  doubt  the  accuracy  of  my  feminine  deductions,  Phil. 
Nothing  provokes  me  more.  You  may  drive  me  to  the 
extreme  of  mentioning  her  name." 

Gallatin  stopped  fencing.  It  was  an  art  he  was  obliged 
reluctantly  to  confess,  in  which  he  was  far  from  a  match 
for  this  tantalizing  adversary.  So  he  relapsed  into  silence, 
aware  that  the  longer  the  conversation  continued  the  more 
vulnerable  he  became. 

But  she  reassured  him  in  a  moment. 

"Oh,  why  won't  you  trust  me?"  she  whispered,  her 
eyes  dark  with  interest.  "  I  do  want  to  help  you  if  you'll 
let  me.  It  was  only  a  guess,  Phil,  a  guess  founded  on  the 
most  intangible  evidence,  but  I  couldn't  help  seeing  (you 
know  a  heaven-born  hostess  is  Midas-eared  and  Argus- 
eyed)  what  passed  between  you  and  Jane  Loring." 

"  Nothing  that  I'm  aware  of  passed  between  us,"  he 
said  quietly.  "  She  was  very  civil." 

"  As  civil  as  a  cucumber — no  more — no  less.  How 
could  I  know  that  she  didn't  want  to  go  in  to  dinner  with 
you?" 

"You  heard?" 

"  Yes,  from  the  back  of  my  head.  Besides,  Phil,  I've 
always  told  you  that  your  eyes  were  too  expressive."  His 
look  of  dismay  was  so  genuine  that  she  stopped  and  laid 
her  hand  along  his  arm.  "  I  was  watching  you,  Phil. 
That's  why  I  know.  I  shouldn't  have  noticed,  if  I  hadn't 
been." 

"  Yes,"  he  slowly  admitted  at  last.  "  Miss  Loring  and 
I  had  met  before." 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS   IN 

At  that  he  stopped  and  would  say  no  more.  Instinct 
warned  her  that  curiosity  had  drawn  her  to  the  verge  of 
intrusiveness,  and  so  she,  too,  remained  silent  while 
through  her  head  a  hundred  thoughts  were  racing — benev- 
olent, romantic,  speculative,  concerning  these  two  young 
people  whom  she  liked — and  one  of  whom  was  unhappy. 
They  had  met  before,  on  terms  of  intimacy,  but  where? 

Intimacies  worth  quarreling  over  were  scarcely  to  be 
made  in  the  brief  season  during  which  Jane  Loring  had 
been  in  New  York,  for  unlike  Mr.  Worthington,  Phil  Gal- 
latin  was  no  cultivator  of  social  squabs.  Obviously  they 
had  met  elsewhere.  Last  summer?  Phil  Gallatin  was  fish- 
ing in  Canada — Canada!  So  was  Jane!  Mrs.  Penning- 
ton  straightened  and  examined  her  companion  curiously. 
She  had  heard  the  story  of  Phil  Gallatin's  wood-nymph 
and  was  now  thoroughly  awake  to  the  reasons  for  his  re- 
ticence, so  she  sank  back  among  her  cushions,  her  eyes 
flowncast,  a  smile  wreathing  her  lips,  the  smile  of  the  col- 
lector of  objects  of  art  and  virtue  who  has  stumbled  upon 
a  hidden  rarity.  It  was  a  smile,  too,  of  self-appreciation 
and  approval,  for  her  premises  had  been  negligible  and  her 
conclusion  only  arrived  at  after  a  process  of  induction 
which  surprised  her  by  the  completeness  of  its  success. 
She  was  already  wondering  how  her  information  could 
best  serve  her  purposes  as  mediator  when  Gallatin  spoke 
again. 

"  We  had  met  before,  Nellie,  under  unusual  and — and 
— er — trying  conditions.  There  was  a — misunderstand- 
ing— something  happened — which  you  need  not  know — a 
damage  to — to  her  pride  which  I  would  give  my  right  hand 
to  repair." 

"  Perhaps,  if  you  could  see  her  alone " 

"  Yes,  I  was  hoping  for  that — but  it  hardly  seems 
possible  here." 

147 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Mrs.  Pennington  was  leaning  forward  now,  slightly 
away  from  him,  thinking  deeply,  thoroughly  alive  to  her 
responsibilities — her  responsibilities  to  Jane  Loring  as 
well  as  to  the  man  beside  her.  It  was  the  judgment  of 
the  world  that  Phil  was  a  failure — her  own  judgment, 
too,  in  spite  of  her  affection  for  him ;  and  yet  in  her  breast 
there  still  lived  a  belief  that  he  still  had  a  chance  for 
regeneration.  She  had  seen  the  spark  of  it  in  his  eyes, 
heard  the  echo  of  it  in  tones  of  his  voice  when  he  had 
spoken  of  his  last  failures.  She  hesitated  long  before  re- 
plying, her  eyes  looking  into  space,  like  a  seer  of  visions, 
as  though  she  were  trying  to  read  the  riddle  of  the 
future.  And  when  she  spoke  it  was  with  tones  of  reso- 
lution. 

"  I  think  it  might  be  managed.  Will  you  leave  it 
to  me?  " 

She  gave  him  her  hand  in  a  warm  clasp.  "I  believe  in 
you,  Phil,  and  I  understand,"  she  finished  softly. 

Gallatin  followed  her  to  the  door  of  the  library,  un- 
quiet of  mind  and  sober  of  demeanor.  He  had  long  known 
Nellie  Pennington  to  be  a  wonderful  woman  and  the  tan- 
gible evidences  of  her  cleverness  still  lingered  as  the  result 
of  his  interview.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing  a  woman 
of  her  equipment  could  not  accomplish,  nothing  she  could 
not  learn  if  she  made  up  her  mind  to  it.  In  twenty  minutes 
of  talk  she  had  succeeded  in  extracting  from  Gallatin, 
without  unseemly  effort,  his  most  carefully  treasured 
secret,  and  indeed  he  half  suspected  that  her  intuition 
had  already  supplied  the  missing  links  in  the  chain  of 
gossip  that  was  going  the  rounds  about  him.  But  he 
did  not  question  her  loyalty  or  her  tact  and,  happy  to 
trust  his  fortunes  entirely  into  her  hands,  he  approached 
the  bridge-tables  aware  that  the  task  which  his  hostess 

148 


NELLIE   PENNINGTON   CUTS  IN 

had  assumed  so  lightly  was  one  that  would  tax  her  in- 
genuity to  the  utmost. 

Her  last  whispered  admonition  as  she  left  him  in  the 
hall  had  been  "  Wait,  and  don't  play  bridge !  "  and  so  he 
followed  her  injunction  implicitly,  wondering  how  the 
miracle  was  to  be  accomplished.  Miss  Loring  did  not 
raise  her  head  at  his  approach,  and  even  when  the  others 
at  the  table  nodded  greetings  she  bent  her  head  upon  her 
cards  and  made  her  bids,  carelessly  oblivious  of  his  pres- 
ence. 

Miss  Jaffray  hardly  improved  his  situation  when  she 
flashed  a  mocking  glance  up  at  him  and  laughed. 
"  Satyr!  "  she  said.  "  I  could  never  have  believed  it  of 
you,  Phil.  You  were  such  a  nice  little  boy,  too,  though 
you  would  pull  my  pig-tail !  " 

"  Don't  mind  Nina,  Phil,"  said  Worthington  gayly. 
'*  Satyrical  remarks  are  her  long  suit,  especially  when 
she's  losing." 

Nina  regarded  him  reproachfully.  "  There  was  a 
time,  Bibby,  when  you  wouldn't  have  spoken  so  unkindly 
of  me.  Is  this  the  way  you  repay  your  debt  of  grati- 
tude? " 

"  Gratitude !  " 

"  Yes,  I  might  have  married  you,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  Nina !     I'd  forgotten." 

"  Think  of  the  peril  you  escaped  and  be  thankful !  " 

"  I  am,"  he  said  devoutly. 

"  You  ought  to  be."  And  then  to  Miss  Loring, 
"  Bibby  hasn't  proposed  to  you  yet,  has  he,  Jane,"  she 
asked. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Jane  laughing.  "  Have  you, 
Mr.  Worthington?  " 

He  flushed  painfully  and  gnawed  at  his  small  mus- 
tache. Nina  had  scored  heavily. 

149 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  hope  he  does,"  Jane  went  on  with  a  sense  of 
throwing  a  buoy  to  a  drowning  man,  "  because  I'm  sure 
I'd  accept  him." 

Worthington  smiled  gratefully  and  adored  her  in  fer- 
vent silence. 

"  Men  have  stopped  asking  me  to  marry  them  lately," 
sighed  Nina.  "  It  annoys  me  dreadfully."  She  spoke 
of  this  misfortune  with  the  same  careless  tone  one  would 
use  with  reference  to  a  distasteful  pattern  in  wall-paper. 

"  But  think  of  the  hearts  you've  broken,"  said  Gal- 
latin. 

"  Or  of  the  hearts  I  wanted  to  break  but  couldn't," 
she  replied.  "  Yours,  for  instance,  Phil." 

"You  couldn't  have  tried  very  hard,"  he  laughed. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  satyr  then,"  she  said, 
pushing  her  chair  back  from  the  table.  "  Your  rubber, 
I  think,  Bibby.  I'm  sure  we'd  better  stop,  Dick,  or  you'll 
never  ask  me  here  again." 


150 


XIII 

MRS.    PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

THERE  was  a  general  movement  of  dispersal,  and 
Philip  Gallatin,  who  had  now  given  up  all  hope 
of  the  opportunity  Nellie  Pennington  had  prom- 
ised him,  followed  the  party  into  the  hall,  his  eyes  fol- 
lowing Jane,  who  had  found  her  hostess  and  was  making 
her  adieux.  He  watched  her  slender  figure  as  she  made 
her  way  up  the  stairs,  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Pennington 
reproachfully. 

"  Don't  speak,  Phil,"  his  hostess  whispered.  "  It's 
all  arranged.  Go  at  once  and  get  your  things." 

Gallatin  obeyed  quickly  and  when  he  came  down  he 
heard  Mrs.  Pennington  saying,  "  So  sorry,  Jane.  Your 
machine  came,  but  the  butler  sent  it  home  again.  There 
was  some  mistake  in  the  orders,  it  seems.  But  I've 
ordered  my  brougham,  and  it's  waiting  at  the  door  for 
you.  You  don't  mind,  do  you?  ,I've  asked  Mr.  Gallatin 
to  see  that  you  get  home  safely." 

"  Of  course,  it's  very  kind  of  you,  dear."  She  hesi- 
tated. "  But  it  seems  too  bad  to  trouble  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  I'm  sure — I'm  delighted,"  he  said,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  he  meant  it. 

Jane  Loring  glanced  around  her  quickly,  helplessly 
it  seemed  to  Gallatin,  but  the  sight  of  Coleman  Van  Duyn, 
waiting  hat  in  hand,  helped  her  to  a  decision. 

"  It's  so  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  she  said  grate- 
fully, and  then,  in  a  whisper  as  she  kissed  her  hostess, 

151 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Nellie,  you're  simply  odious !  "  and  made  her  way  out 
of  the  door. 

Gallatin  followed  quickly,  but  Miss  Loring  reached 
the  curb  before  him  and  giving  her  number  to  the  coach- 
man, got  in  without  the  proffered  hand  of  her  escort. 

Angry  though  she  was,  Jane  Loring  kept  her  com- 
posure admirably.  All  the  world,  it  seemed,  was  con- 
spiring to  throw  her  with  this  man  whom  she  now  knew 
she  must  detest.  If  fate,  blind  and  unthinking,  had  made 
him  her  dinner  partner,  only  design,  malicious  and  un- 
civil, could  be  blamed  for  his  presence  now.  She  sat  in 
her  corner,  her  figure  tense,  her  head  averted,  her  wraps 
carefully  drawn  about  her,  a  dark  and  forbidding  wraith 
of  outraged  dignity,  waiting  only  for  him  to  speak  that 
she  might  crush  him. 

Gallatin  sat  immovable  for  a  moment,  conscious  of 
all  the  feminine  forces  arrayed  against  him. 

"  I  make  no  apologies,"  he  began  with  an  assurance 
which  surprised  her.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you  alone  and 
no  other  chance  offered.  I  suppose  I  might  say  I'm 
sorry,  but  that  wouldn't  be  true.  I'm  not  sorry  and 
I  don't  want  any  misunderstandings.  I  asked  Mrs. 
Pennington " 

"  Oh !  "  she  broke  in  wrathfully.  "  Many  people,  it 
seems,  enjoy  your  confidences,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  No,"  he  went  on,  steadily.  "  I'm  not  given  to  con- 
fidences, Miss  Loring.  Mrs.  Pennington  is  one  of  my 
oldest  and  best  friends.  I  told  her  it  was  necessary  for 
me  to  see  you  alone  for  a  moment  and  she  took  pity  on 
me." 

"  Mrs.  Pennington  has  taken  an  unpardonable  lib- 
erty and  I  shall  tell  her  so,"  said  Jane  decisively. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  do  that." 

"  Have  matters  reached  such  a  point  in  New  York 
152 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

that  a  girl  can't  drive  out  alone  without  being  open  to 
the  importunity  of  any  stranger?  " 

"  I  am  not  a  stranger,"  he  put  in  firmly,  and  his 
voice  dominated  hers.  "  We  met  within  the  Gates  of 
Chance,  Miss  Loring,  on  equal  terms.  I  have  the  right 
of  any  man  to  plead " 

"  You've  already  pleaded." 

"You  were  prejudiced.  I've  appealed — to  a  higher 
tribunal — your  sense  of  justice." 

"  I  know  no  law  but  my  own  instinct." 

"  You  are  not  true  to  your  own  instincts  then,  or  they 
are  not  true  to  you." 

It  was  sophistry,  of  course,  but  she  was  a  trifle 
startled  at  the  accuracy  of  his  deduction,  for  she  realized 
that  it  was  her  judgment  only  that  rejected  him  and 
that  her  instincts  advised  her  of  the  pleasure  she  took 
in  his  company.  Her  instincts  then  being  unreliable,  she 
followed  her  judgment  blindly,  uncomfortably  conscious 
that  she  did  it  against  her  will,  and  angry  with  herself 
that  it  was  so. 

"  I  only  know,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  she  said  coldly,  "  that 
both  judgment  and  instinct  warn  me  against  you.  What- 
ever there  is  left  in  you  of  honor — of  decency,  must 
surely  respond  to  my  distaste  for  this  intrusion." 

"  If  I  admit  that  I'm  neither  honorable  nor  decent, 
will  you  give  me  the  credit  for  speaking  the  truth?  "  he 
asked  slowly. 

"With  reference  to  what?"  scornfully. 

"  To  this  story  they're  telling." 

"  You  brought  it  here,  of  course." 

"  Will  you  believe  me  if  I  say  that  I  didn't  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  believe  you  ?  " 

"  Simply  because  I  ask  you  to." 
153 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


She  looked  out  of  the  carriage  window  away  from 
him. 

"  I  believed  in  you  once,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

He  bowed  his  head. 

"  Even  that  is  something,"  he  said.  "  You  wouldn't 
have  believed  in  me  then  if  instinct  had  forbidden  it.  I 
am  the  same  person  you  once  believed  in." 

"  My  judgment  was  at  fault.    I  dislike  you  intensely." 

"  I  won't  believe  it." 

"  You  must.  You  did  me  an  injury  that  nothing  can 
repair." 

"  An  injury  to  your  dignity,  to  your  womanhood  and 
sensibility " 

"  Hardly,"  she  said  scornfully,  "  or  even  to  my  pride. 
It  was  only  my  body — you  hurt,  Mr.  Gallatin — your 
kisses — they  soiled  me " 

"  My  God,  Jane !  Don't !  Haven't  you  punished 
me  enough?  I  was  mad,  I  tell  you.  There  was  a  devil 
in  me,  that  owned  me  body  and  soul,  that  stole  my  rea- 
son, killed  what  was  good,  and  made  a  monster  of  the  love 
I  had  cherished — an  insensate  enemy  that  perverted  and 
brutalized  every  decent  instinct,  a  Thing  unfamiliar  to 
you  which  frightened  and  drove  you  away  in  fear  and 
loathing.  It  was  not  me  you  feared,  Jane,  for  you 
trusted  me.  It  was  the  Thing  you  feared,  as  I  fear  it, 
the  Enemy  that  had  pursued  me  into  the  woods  where  I 
had  fled  from  it." 

Jane  Loring  sat  in  her  corner  apparently  uncon- 
cerned, but  her  heart  was  throbbing  and  the  hands  be- 
neath the  wide  sleeves  of  her  opera  kimono  were  nervously 
clutched.  The  sound  of  his  voice,  its  deep  sonorous  tones 
when  aroused  were  familiar  to  her.  As  he  paused  she 
stole  a  glance  at  him,  for  as  he  spoke  of  his  Enemy  he 
had  turned  away  from  her,  his  eyes  peering  out  into  the 

154 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

dimly  lighted  street,  as  if  the  mention  of  his  weakness 
shamed  him. 

"  I'm  not  asking  you  for  your  pity,"  he  went  on  more 
steadily,  "  I  only  want  your  pardon.  I  don't  think  it's 
too  much  to  ask.  It  wasn't  the  real  Phil  Gallatin  who 
brought  that  shame  on  you." 

"  The  real  Phil  Gallatin !  Which  is  the  real  Phil  Gal- 
latin? "  she  asked  cruelly. 

"  What  you  make  him — to-night,"  he  replied  quickly. 
"  I've  done  what  I  can  without  you — lived  like  an  out- 
cast on  the  memories  of  happiness,  but  I  can't  subsist  on 
that.  Memory  is  poor  food  for  a  starving  man." 

"  I  can't  see  how  /  can  be  held  accountable.  /  did 
not  make  you,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  But  you  can  mar  me.  I've  come,"  he  remembered 
the  words  of  Mrs.  Pennington,  "  I've  come  to  the  part- 
ing of  the  ways.  Up  there — I  gained  my  self-respect — 
and  lost  it.  The  best  of  me  you  saw  and  the  worst  of 
me.  You  knew  me  only  for  five  days  and  yet  no  one  in 
the  world  can  know  me  exactly  as  you  do." 

"  The  pity  of  it " 

"  The  best  of  me  and  the  worst  of  me,  the  man  in  me 
and  the  beast  in  me,  my  sanity  and  my  madness.  All 
these  you  saw.  The  record  is  at  least  complete." 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  I  could  not  lie  to  you  nor  cheat  you  with  false 
sentiment.  I  played  the  game  fairly  until — until  then." 

"Yes — until  then." 

"  You  cared  for  me,  there  in  the  woods.  I  earned 
your  friendship.  And  I  hoped  that  the  time  had  come 
when  I  could  prove — to  you,  at  least,  that  I  was  not  to  be 
found  wanting." 

"  And  yet — you  failed,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  failed.  Oh,  I  don't  try  to  make  my  sin  anjr 
155 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


the  less.  I  only  want  you  to  remember  the  circumstances 
— to  acquit  me  of  any  intention  to  do  you  harm.  I  am 
no  despoiler  of  women,  even  my  enemies  will  tell  you 
so.  That,  thank  God,  was  not  a  part  of  my  heritage.  I 
have  always  looked  on  women  of  your  sort  with  a  kind 
of  wonder.  I  have  never  understood  them — nor  they  me. 
I  thought  of  them  as  I  thought  of  pictures  or  of  children, 
things  set  apart  from  the  grubby  struggle  for  material 
and  moral  existence.  I  liked  to  be  with  them  because 
their  ways  fell  in  pleasant  places  and  because,  in  re- 
specting them,  I  could  better  learn  to  respect  myself. 
God  knows,  I  respected  you — honored  you!  Don't  say 
you  don't  believe  that !  " 

"  I — I  think  you  did "  she  stammered. 

"  I  tried  to  show  you  how  much.  You  knew  what 
Was  in  my  heart.  I  would  have  died  for  you — or  lived 
for  you,  if  you  could  have  wished  it  so." 

He  paused  a  moment,  his  brows  tangled  in  thought. 

"  I  learned  many  things  up  there — things  that  neither 
men  nor  women  nor  books  had  taught  me,  something  of 
the  directness  and  persistence  of  the  forces  of  nature,  the 
binding  contract  of  a  man's  body  with  his  soul,  the 
glorification  of  labor  and  the  meaning  of  responsibility. 
I  was  happy  there — happy  as  I  had  never  been  before. 
I  wanted  the  days  to  be  longer  so  that  I  could  work 
harder  for  you,  and  my  pride  in  your  comfort  was  the 
greatest  pride  I  have  ever  known.  You  were  my  fetich 
— the  symbol  of  Intention.  You  made  me  believe  in  my- 
self, and  defied  the  Enemy  that  was  plucking  at  my  elbow. 
I  could  have  lived  there  always  and  I  prayed  in  secret 
that  we  might  never  be  found.  I  wanted  you  to  believe 
in  me  as  I  was  already  beginning  to  believe  in  myself. 
Whatever  I  had  been — here  in  the  world — up  there  at 
least  I  was  a  success.  I  wanted  to  prove  it  thoroughly 

156 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

— to  kill,  that  you  might  eat  and  be  warm — to  hew  and 
build,  that  you  might  be  comfortable.  I  wanted  a  shrine 
for  you,  that  I  might  put  you  there  and  keep  you — 
always.  I  worshiped  you,  Jane,  God  help  me,  as  I  wor- 
ship you  now." 

His  voice  trembled  and  broke  as  he  paused. 

"  I — I  must  not  listen  to  you,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  she  said 
hurriedly,  for  her  heart  was  beating  wildly. 

"  I  worship  you,  Jane,"  he  repeated,  "  and  I  ask 
for  nothing  but  your  pardon." 

"  I — I  forgive  you,"  she  gasped. 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.  I'll  try  to  deserve  your  indul- 
gence," he  said  slowly.  He  stopped  again,  and  it  was  a 
long  time  before  he  went  on.  The  brougham  was  moving 
rapidly  up  the  Avenue  and  the  turmoil  of  night  sounds 
was  fading  into  silence.  Forty-second  Street  was  already 
behind  them,  and  the  fashionable  restaurants  were  gay 
with  lights.  He  seemed  to  realize  then  that  Jane  would 
soon  reach  her  destination,  and  he  went  on  quickly,  as 
though  there  were  still  much  that  he  must  say  in  the 
little  time  left  to  him  to  say  it  in.  "  I  suppose  it  would 
be  too  much  if  I  asked  you  to  let  me  see  you  once  in 
a  while,"  he  said  quickly,  as  though  he  feared  her  refusal. 

"  I — I've  no  doubt  that  we'll  meet,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  he  persisted.  "I  don't  think 
I'll  be — I  don't  think  I'll  go  around  much  this  winter. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you,  if  you'll  let  me.  I — I  can't  give 
you  up — I  need  you.  I  need  your  belief  in  me,  the  incen- 
tive of  your  friendship,  your  spell  to  exorcise  the — the 
Thing  that  came  between  us." 

"  I  am  trying  to  forget  that,"  she  murmured.  "  It 
would  be  easier  if — if  you  hadn't  said  what  you  did." 

"  What  did  I  say  ?  I  don't  know,"  he  said  passion- 
ately. 

157 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  That  you — you  loved  me.  It  was  the  brute  in  you 
that  spoke — not  the  man,  the  beast  that  kissed —  Oh !  " 
She  brushed  the  back  of  her  hand  across  her  eyes.  "  It 
was  not  you !  The  memory  of  it  will  never  go." 

He  hung  his  head  in  shame. 

"  No,  no,  don't !  "  he  muttered.  "  You're  crucifying 
me!" 

"  If  you  had  not  said  that " 

"  It  was  monstrous.  It  was  madness,  but  it  was 
sweet." 

"  Love  is  not  brutal — does  not  shame — nor  frighten," 
she  said  slowly.  "  You  had  been  so — so  clean — so 
calm " 

"  It  was  Arcadia,  Jane,"  he  whispered,  "  your  Ar- 
cadia and  mine.  It  was  the  love  in  me  that  spoke,  what- 
ever I  said — the  love  of  a  man,  or  of  a  beast,  if  you  like. 
But  it  spoke  truly.  There  were  no  conventions  there  but 
those  of  the  forest,  no  laws  but  those  of  the  heart.  I  had 
known  you  less  than  a  week,  and  I  had  known  you  always. 
And  you — up  there — you  loved  me.  Yes,  it's  true.  Do 
you  think  I  couldn't  read  in  your  eyes?  " 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested.  "  It  isn't  true.  I— I  didn't 
love  you — I  don't " 

He  had  captured  one  of  her  hands  and  was  leaning 
toward  her,  his  voice  close  at  her  ear,  vibrant  with  emo- 
tion. 

"  You  loved  me — up  there,  Jane.  The  forest  knew. 
The  stream  sang  of  it.  It  was  in  Kee-way-din  and  the 
rain.  It  was  part  of  the  primeval,  when  we  lived  a  thou- 
sand years  ago.  Don't  you  remember?  I  read  it  in  your 
eyes  that  night  when  I  came  in  with  the  deer.  You  ran 
out  to  meet  me,  like  the  cave-woman  to  greet  her  man. 
I  was  no  longer  the  fugitive  who  had  built  your  hut,  or 

158 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

made  your  fires.  You  had  learned  that  I  was  necessary  to 
you,  in  other  ways,  not  to  your  body — but  to  your  spirit." 

"  No.     It's  not  true." 

"  That  night  you  fed  me — watched  by  me.  I  saw  your 
eyes  in  my  dreams,  the  gentleness  in  them,  their  com- 
passion, their  perfect  womanliness.  Such  wonderful 
dreams !  And  when  I  awoke  you  were  still  there.  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  then  that  I  knew — but  I  couldn't.  It 
would  have  made  things  difficult  for  you.  Then  I  got 
sick " 

"Don't,  Mr.  Gallatin!" 

He  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  face  so 
that  her  lips  lay  just  beneath  his  own. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth.  You  loved  me  then.  You  love 
me  now?  Isn't  it  so?  " 

Her  lips  were  silent,  and  one  small  tear  trembled  on 
her  cheeks.  But  he  kissed  it  away. 

"  Look  up  at  me,  Jane.  Answer.  Whatever  I  am, 
whatever  I  hope  to  be,  you  and  I  are  one — indivisible.  It 
has  been  so  since  the  beginning.  There  is  no  brute  in  me 
now,  dear.  See.  I  am  all  tenderness  and  compassion. 
One  fire  burns  out  another.  I'll  clean  your  lips  with  new 
kisses — gentle  ones — purge  off  the  baser  fire.  I  love  you, 
Jane.  And  you ?  " 

"  Yes — yes,"  she  whispered  faintly.  "  I  do  love  you. 
I— I  can't  help  it." 

"  Do  you  want  to  help  it  ?  " 

"  No.     I  don't  want  to  help  it." 

"  Kiss  me,  Jane." 

She  raised  her  moist  lips  to  his  and  he  took  them. 

Past  and  Future  whirled  about  their  ears,  dinning  the 
alarm,  but  they  could  not  hear  it,  for  the  voice  of  the 
present,  the  wonderful  present  was  singing  in  their  hearts. 

159 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


The  brougham  rolled  noiselessly  on,  and  they  did  not 
know  or  care.  Fifth  Avenue  was  an  Elysian  Field,  and 
their  journey  could  only  end  in  Paradise. 

"  Say  it  again,"  he  whispered. 

She  did. 

"  I  can't  see  your  eyes,  Jane.  I  want  to  see  them  now. 
They're  like  they  were — up  there — aren't  they?  They're 
not  cold,  or  scornful,  or  mocking,  as  they've  been  all 
evening — not  cruel  as  they  were — in  the  Park?  It's  you, 
isn't  it?  Really  you?  " 

"  Yes,  what's  left  of  me,"  she  sighed.  "  It's  so  sweet," 
she  whispered.  "  I've  dreamed  of  it — but  I  didn't  think  it 
could  ever  be.  I  was  afraid  of  you " 

"  Oh,  Jane !     How  cruel  you  were !  " 

"  I  had  to  be.    I  had  to  hurt  you." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  of  my  own  pain.  I  wanted  to  make  you 
suffer — as  I  suffered — only  more." 

"  I  did.    Much  more.    You're  not  afraid  of  me  now?  " 

"  No,  no.  I'm  not  afraid  of  you.  I  shouldn't  be — be 
where  I  am,  if  I  were." 

He  took  pains  to  give  her  locality  a  new  defmiteness. 

"  I'm  not — what  you  thought  I  was  ?  "  he  asked  after 
that. 

"  No — yes — that  is — I  don't  know : 

"  Jane !  " 

"  I  mean — I  don't  believe  I  ever  thought  you  anything 
but  what  you  are." 

"  You  blessed  child.     And  what  am  I  ?  " 

"  A — a  person.  A  dark-haired  person — with  a — 
face." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  No.  And  an  unshaven  chin,  a  soiled  flannel  shirt, 
and  a  brown  felt  hat  with  two  holes  punched  in  it." 

160 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

"  Have  I  always  been  that?  " 

"  Yes— always." 

"  You  liked  that — that  person  better  than  you  do 
this  one?  " 

"  I'm — not  sure."  She  straightened  suddenly  in  his 
arms  and  drew  away  to  look  at  him.  "  Why — I've  only 
known  you — I  only  met  you  a  few  hours  ago.  It's  dread- 
ful of  me — Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  Phil,"  he  corrected. 

"  Phil,  then.  The  suddenness  of  everything — I'm  not 
quite  sure  of  myself— 

"  I'm  not  either.     I'm  afraid  I'll  wake  up." 

"  You're  not  the  person  with  the  glowering  eyes,"  she 
went  on,  "  and  the — the  stubbly  chin — or  the  slouch  hat 
and  smelly  pipe " 

"  I'm  too  happy  to  glower.  I  couldn't  if  I  wanted  to. 
But  I've  got  the  hat  and  the  smelly  pipe.  I  can  make 
the  chin  stubbly  again — if  you'll  only  wait  a  few  days." 

"  I  don't  think  I— I'd  like  it  stubbly  now." 

He  laughed.     But  she  stopped  him  again. 

"  I— I  wish  you'd  tell  me " 

She  paused  and  he  questioned. 

"  Something  bothers  me  dreadfully." 

"What?" 

"  You  didn't  think — when  you — came  with  me  to- 
night— that  I  could  be  convinced — that  you  could — could 
win  so  easily,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  dear.     I  didn't— I " 

"  Quickly — or  I  shall  die  of  shame." 

"  I  had  no  hope — none  at  all.  I  just  wanted  you  to 
know  how  things  were  with  me.  Thank  God,  you  listened." 

"  How  could  I  do  anything  else  but  listen — in  a 
brougham — I  couldn't  have  jumped  out  into  the  street. 
Besides,  you  might  have  jumped,  too." 

161 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  would  have,"  he  said  grimly. 

"  It  would  have  made  a  scene." 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that." 

"  And  the  coachman — Mrs.  Pennington  would  have 
known.  Oh,  don't  you  see?  Mrs.  Pennington  only  intro- 
duced us  to-night 

She  drew  away  from  him  and  looked  out  of  the  car- 
riage window.  They  had  reached  a  neighborhood  which 
was  unfamiliar  to  her,  where  the  houses  were  smaller  and 
the  lights  less  frequent,  and  upon  the  left-hand  side  there 
was  no  Park. 

"  There  is  some  mistake,"  she  said  a  little  bewildered. 
"  We  have  come  a  long  way." 

He  followed  her  look  and  laughed  outright. 

"  We're  above  the  Park,"  he  said,  opening  the  door. 
And  then  to  the  coachman.  "  You  got  the  wrong  number." 

"  One  Hundred  and  Twentieth,  sir,"  came  a  voices 
promptly. 

"  One  Hundred  and  Twenty!  Where  are  we  now, 
Dawson?  " 

"  Hundred  and  Ten,  sir." 

Gallatin  laughed,  but  Jane  had  sunk  back  in  her 
corner  in  confusion. 

"  I  said  Seventieth  distinctly,"  she  murmured.  "  I'm 
sure  I  did." 

"  You'd  better  turn  now,"  said  Gallatin  to  the  man. 

"Where  to,  sir?" 

"To  the  Battery " 

"  Mr.  Gal— Phil !  "  cried  Jane. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  Dawson. 

Gallatin  concealed  his  delight  with  difficulty. 

"  We've  come  too  far,  Dawson,"  he  said.  "  Miss 
Loring  lives  in  Seventieth  Street." 

"  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  came  a  voice. 

162 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

Gallatin  shut  the  door  and  the  vehicle  turned. 

Jane  sat  very  straight  in  her  corner  and  her  fingers 
;were  rearranging  her  disordered  hair. 

"  Oh,  Phil, — I'm  shamed.  How  could  I  have  let  him 
go  past " 

"  There  are  no  numbers  on  the  streets  of  Paradise." 

"  It  must  be  frightfully  late." 

" — or  watches  in  the  pockets  of  demigods " 

"  Will  you  be  serious !  " 

"  Demigods  are  too  happy  to  be  serious." 

"  That  poor  horse " 

"  A  wonderful  horse,  a  horse  among  horses,  but  he 
goes  too  fast.  He'll  be  there  in  no  time.  Can't  we  take 
a  turn  in  the  Park?  " 

He  stretched  his  hand  toward  the  door,  but  she  seized 
him  by  the  arm. 

"  I  forbid  it.  If  Mrs.  Pennington  knew — "  she 
stopped  again  in  consternation.  "  Phil !  Do  you  think 
[that  Nellie  Pennington " 

"  I  don't  know.  She's  a  wonderful  woman — keeps 
amazing  horses — extraordinary  coachmen -" 

"  Could  she  have  told  the  man — to  mistake  me — pur- 
posely? " 

"  I  think  so,"  he  said  brazenly.  "  She's  capable  of 
anything — anything — wonderful  worn " 

"  Phil,  I'll  be  angry  with  you." 

"  No,  you  can't." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  again  and  she  discovered  that 
what  he  said  was  true.  She  didn't  want  to  be  angry. 
Besides,  what  did  it  matter,  about  anything  or  anybody 
else  in  the  world. 

"  I  don't  know  how  this  could  have  happened.  I've 
hated  you,  Phil,"  she  confessed  after  a  while.  "  Oh,  how 
I've  hated  you !  " 

163 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  No." 

"  Oh,  yes.  It's  true.  I  hated  you.  I  really  did. 
You  were  the  living  emblem  of  my  disgrace.  When  you 
got  in  here  beside  me  to-night,  I  loathed  you.  I'm  still 
angry  with  myself.  I  can't  understand  how  I  could  have 
yielded  so — so  completely." 

"  It  all  happened  a  thousand  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.  Up  there — I  seemed  to  remember 
that." 

"  So  did  I — the  same  stream,  the  same  rocks,  the 
forest  primeval." 

"  And  the  voices " 

"  Yes.  You  couldn't  change  things.  They  were  meant 
to  be — from  the  beginning." 

She  drew  closer  into  his  arms  and  whispered. 

"  It  frightens  me  a  little,  though." 

"What?" 

"  That  it  has  happened  in  spite  of  me.  That  I  had  no 
power  to  resist." 

"  Do  you  want  to  resist?  " 

"  No,  not  now — not  now." 

"  You  make  me  immortal.  There's  no  need  to  be 
frightened  for  me  or  for  you.  The  strength  of  the  ages 
is  in  me,  Jane.  I'll  win  out,  dear,"  he  whispered.  "  I'll 
win  out.  For  you — for  us  both." 

"  I  believe  it,"  she  sighed.  "  It's  in  you  to  win.  I've 
known  that,  too.  You  must  put  the — the  Enemy  to  rout, 
Phil.  I'll  help  you.  It's  my  Enemy  as  well  as  yours  now. 
We'll  face  it  together — and  it  will  fall.  I  know  it  will." 

He  laughed. 

"  God  bless  you  for  that.  I'm  not  afraid  of  it.  We've 
conjured  it  away  already.  You've  put  me  in  armor,  Jane. 
We'll  turn  its  weapons  aside." 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  of  it." 

164 


MRS.   PENNINGTON'S   BROUGHAM 

She  looked  up  at  him  and  by  the  glow  of  a  street 
lamp  he  saw  that  she  was  afraid  no  longer,  for  in  her 
eyes  was  a  light  of  love  and  faith  unalterable. 

She  could  not  know,  nor  did  he,  that  outside  in  the 
darkness  beside  their  vehicle,  his  weapons  sheathed,  baffled 
and  thwarted  for  the  moment,  but  still  undismayed,  strode 
the  Enemy. 


165 


XIV 

THE   JUNIOR   MEMBER 

THE  offices  of  Kenyon,  Hood  and  Gallatin  were  in 
the  Mills  Building,  and  consisted  of  six  rooms,  one 
for  each  of  the  members  of  the  firm,  and  three  for 
the  clerks,  stenographers  and  library.  They  were  plainly 
but  comfortably  furnished,  and  gave  no  token  of  ex- 
traordinary prosperity  or  the  lack  of  it.  In  no  sense  did 
they  resemble  the  magnificent  suites  which  were  main- 
tained elsewhere  in  the  building  by  more  precocious  firms 
which  had  discovered  the  efficacy  of  the  game  of  "  bluff," 
and  which  used  it  in  their  business  with  successful  con- 
sistency. And  yet  there  was  an  air  of  solidity  here  which 
indicated  a  conservatism  more  to  the  liking  of  the  class 
of  people  who  found  use  for  the  services  of  Kenyon,  Hood 
and  Gallatin. 

John  Kenyon,  the  senior  member,  belonged  to  that 
steadily  decreasing  class  of  lawyers  who  look  upon  their 
profession  as  a  calling  with  traditions.  He  belonged  to 
an  older  school  of  practitioners  which  still  clung  to  the 
ethics  of  a  bygone  generation.  The  business  of  many  big 
corporations  went  up  in  the  elevator  which  passed  before 
the  door  of  John  Kenyon's  private  office  to  a  floor  above, 
where  its  emissaries  could  learn  how  to  take  the  money  that 
belonged  to  other  people  without  being  jailed,  or,  having 
been  jailed,  how  they  could  most  quickly  be  freed  to  obtain 
the  use  of  their  plunder.  But  Mr.  Kenyon  made  no  effort 
to  divert  this  tide.  He  wanted  no  part  of  it  in  his  office, 

166 


The  corporate  interests  which  he  represented  were  for  the 
most  part  those  which  required  his  services  to  resist  the 
depredations  planned  upstairs. 

John  Kenyon  would  have  been  a  great  lawyer  but  for 
the  lack  of  one  important  ingredient  of  greatness — imagi- 
nation. His  knowledge  of  the  law  was  extraordinary. 
His  mind  was  crystal-clear,  analytical  but  not  inventive, 
judicial  but  not  prophetic.  He  would  have  graced  the 
robes  of  a  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Bench ;  but  as  a  potent 
force  in  modern  affairs  he  was  not  far  from  mediocrity. 
He  had  begun  his  career  in  the  office  of  Philip  Gallatin's 
grandfather,  had  been  associated  with  Philip  Gallatin's 
father,  but  with  the  passing  of  the  old  firm  he  had  opened 
offices  of  his  own.  The  initiative  which  he  lacked  had 
been  supplied  by  Gordon  Hood,  a  brisk  Bostonian  of  the 
omniscient  type ;  and  the  accession  of  young  Philip  Galla- 
tin  four  years  ago  had  done  still  more  to  supply  the  in- 
gredients which  modern  conditions  seemed  to  require.  It 
had  meant  much  to  John  Kenyon  to  have  Phil  in  the  firm, 
for  the  perspective  of  Time  had  done  little  to  dim  the 
luster  which  hung  about  the  name  of  Gallatin  and  the 
junior  member  had  shown  early  signs  that  he,  too,  was 
possessed  of  much  of  the  genius  of  his  forebears. 

Kenyon  had  watched  the  development  of  the  boy  with 
mingled  delight  and  apprehension  and,  with  the  memory 
of  the  failings  of  his  ancestors  fresh  in  his  mind,  had  done 
what  he  could  to  avert  impending  evil.  It  was  at  his 
advice  that  young  Gallatin  had  gone  to  the  Canadian 
woods,  and  he  had  noted  with  interest  and  not  a  little 
curiosity  his  return  to  his  desk  two  months  ago  sobered 
and  invigorated.  Phil  had  plunged  into  the  work  which 
awaited  him  with  quiet  intention,  and  the  way  he  had 
taken  hold  of  his  problems  and  solved  them,  had  filled 
the  senior  partner  with  new  hopes  for  his  future.  He 

167 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


loved  the  boy  as  he  could  have  loved  a  son,  as  he  must 
love  the  son  of  Evelyn  Westervelt,  and  it  had  taken  much 
to  destroy  John  Kenyon's  belief  in  Phil's  ultimate  success. 
But  this  last  failure  had  broken  that  faith.  Through  the 
efforts  of  Gordon  Hood  the  firm  had  won  the  suit  for 
which  Phil  Gallatin  had  prepared  it,  but  it  was  an  empty 
victory  to  John  Kenyon,  who  had  seen  during  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  case  Phil  Gallatin's  chance,  his  palingenesis — • 
the  restitution  of  all  his  rights,  physical  and  moral. 

Fully  aware  of  John  Kenyon's  attitude  toward  him, 
for  two  weeks  Philip  Gallatin  had  remained  uptown  and, 
until  his  dinner  at  Mrs.  Pennington's,  to  which  he  had 
gone  in  response  to  especial  pleading,  had  hidden  himself 
even  from  his  intimates.  He  had  sent  word  to  John  Ken- 
yon  that  he  was  indisposed,  but  both  men  knew  what  his 
absence  meant.  John  Kenyon  had  been  the  one  rock  to 
which  Phil  Gallatin  had  tied,  the  one  man  with  whom  he 
had  been  willing  to  talk  of  himself,  the  one  man  of  all  his 
friends  from  whom  he  would  even  take  a  reproach.  It 
was  on  John  Kenyon's  account,  more  even  than  on  his  own, 
that  Gallatin  so  keenly  suffered  for  his  failure  at  the 
critical  moment.  The  time  had  indeed  come  for  a  reckon- 
ing, and  yesterday  Gallatin  had  planned  to  retire  from 
the  firm  and  save  his  senior  partner  the  pains  of  further 
responsibility  on  his  account.  He  had  been  weighed  in 
the  balance,  a  generous  balance  with  weights  which  favored 
him,  and  had  been  found  wanting. 

But  last  night  a  miracle  had  happened  and  the  visit 
of  renunciation  which  he  had  even  planned  for  this  very 
morning  had  been  turned  into  one  of  contrition  and  ap- 
peal. And  difficult  as  he  found  the  interview  before  him, 
he  entered  the  office  with  a  light  step  and  a  face  aglow  with 
the  new  resolution  which  had  banished  the  somber  shadow 
that  for  so  long  had  hung  about  him. 

168 


It  was  early,  and  the  business  of  the  day  had  just 
begun.  At  his  appearance  several  of  the  stenographers 
looked  up  from  their  work  and  scrutinized  him  with  in- 
terest, and  the  chief  clerk  rose  and  greeted  him. 

"  Good  morning,  Tooker,"  he  nodded  cheerfully.  "  Is 
Mr.  Kenyon  in  yet?  " 

"  No,  sir.     It's  hardly  his  time " 

"  Please  tell  him  I'd  like  to  see  him  if  he  can  spare  me 
a  moment." 

Then  he  entered  a  door  which  bore  his  name  and 
closed  it  carefully  behind  him,  opened  his  desk,  glanced 
at  his  watch,  made  two  or  three  turns  up  and  down  the 
room  and  then  took  up  the  telephone  book,  Logan — 
Lord — Lorimer,  Loring.  There  it  was.  7000  Plaza.  He 
hesitated  again  and  then  rang  up  the  number. 

It  was  some  moments  before  the  butler  consented  to 
get  Miss  Loring,  and  when  he  did  she  did  not  recognize 
his  voice. 

"Who  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Phil !  I  didn't  know  you  at  all.  Where  are 
you?  " 

"  At  the  office." 

"  Already !     And  I'm  not  out  of  bed !  " 

"  Did  I  wake  you?     I'm  sorry " 

"  I'm  glad.  I  didn't  mean  to  go  to  sleep,  but  I  did 
sleep,  somehow " 

"  I  haven't  been  asleep.     I  couldn't " 

"Why  not?" 


"  It's  so  much  pleasanter  to  be  awake." 

"  I  think  so,  too,  but  then  I  dreamed,  Phil." 

"  Pleasant  dreams?  " 

"  Oh,  beautiful  ones,  full  of  demigods  and  things." 

"What  things?" 

169 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Enchanted  broughams.  Oh,  how  did  it  happen, 
Phil?" 

"  It  had  to  happen." 

"  I  can't  believe  it  yet." 

He  laughed.  "  If  I  were  there  I'd  try  to  convince 
you." 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  could.     I'm  willing  to  admit  that." 

"  Are  you  sorry?  " 

"  N-o.  But  I'm  so  used  to  being  myself.  I  can't 
understand.  It's  strange — that's  all.  And  I'm  glad  you 
called  me.  I've  had  a  terrifying  feeling  that  you  must 
be  somebody  else,  too." 

"  I  am  somebody  else." 

"  I  mean  somebody  I  don't  know  very  well.** 

"  There's  a  remedy  for  that." 

"What?" 

"  Doses  of  demigod.     Repeat  every  hour." 

"Oh !" 

"  Don't  you  like  the  prescription?  " 

"  I— I  think  so." 

"  Then  why  not  try  it?  " 

"  I— I  think  I  ought  to,  oughtn't  I?  " 

"  I'm  sure  of  it.  In  a  day  or  so  the  symptoms  you 
speak  of  will  entirely  disappear." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Positive." 

"  I — I  think  they're  less  acute  already.  You  really 
are  you,  aren't  you?  " 

"  If  I  wasn't,  you  wouldn't  be  you,  don't  you  see?  " 

"Yes,  and  I'd  be  frightfully  jealous  if  I  had  been 
somebody  else."  She  laughed.  "  Oh,  Phil !  What  a  con- 
versation !  I  hope  no  one  is  listening." 

"  I'm  sure  they're  not.  They  couldn't  understand 
anyway." 

170 


THE   JUNIOR   MEMBER 


"  Not  unless  they're  quite  mad — as  we  are.  What  are 
you  doing?  Working?  " 

"  Yes,  drawing  a  deed  for  an  acre  in  Paradise." 

"  Don't  be  foolish.    Who  for?  " 

"  Me.     And  there's  a  deed  of  trust." 

"  I'll  sign  that." 

"  We'll  both  sign  it.  It's  well  secured,  Jane.  Don't 
you  believe  me?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  slowly. 

There  was  a  pause  and  then  he  asked,  "  When  can  I 
see  you?  " 

"  Soon." 

"This  afternoon?" 

"  I've  a  luncheon." 

"  And  then " 

"  Tea  at  the Oh,  Phil,  I'll  have  to  cut  that. 

There's  a  dance  to-night,  too,  the  Ledyards'." 

"  This  is  getting  serious." 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  I've  been  frightfully  rude  already. 
Can't  you  go?  " 

"  Not  sufficiently  urged." 

"  Then  I  shan't  either.  I  don't  want  to  go.  I  want — 
the  acre  of  Paradise." 

"  Where  will  I  meet  you,  Jane?  " 

"  Here— at  four." 

"  I'll  be  there." 

"  Until  then,  good-by,  and,  Phil " 

"  Yes." 

"  Please  wear  that  flannel  shirt,  disreputable  hat 
and " 

"And  the  beard?" 

"  No — not  the  beard.  But  I  want  to  be  convinced 
there's  no  mistake." 

"  I'd  rather  convince  you  without  them." 

171 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


11  Oh,  I've  no  doubt  you  will,"  she  sighed.  "  There's 
so  much  I've  got  to  say  to  you,  Phil.  I  won't  know  where 
to  begin " 

"  Just  where  you  stopped." 

"  But  I — I  wasn't  saying  anything — just  then.  I 
couldn't.  There — there  were  reasons." 

He  laughed  gayly. 

"  I've  still  other  reasons." 

"Oh!" 

"  Convincing  ones." 

"  Phil,  I  won't  listen.     Good-by !  " 

"  Good-by." 

"  Hadn't  we  better  go  for  a  walk?  "  she  asked. 

"  No— please " 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  with  a  tone  of  resignation.  "  There 
— you  see,  I'm  submitting  again.  At  four,  then.  Good- 
by."  She  cut  off  and  he  hung  up  the  receiver,  sitting 
for  a  long  while  motionless,  looking  out  of  the  window.  He 
took  out  his  watch  and  was  examining  it  impatiently  when 
the  chief  clerk  came  in. 

"  Mr.  Kenyon  will  see  you  now,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  he  said. 

John  Kenyon  paused  in  the  reading  of  his  mail  and 
looked  up  over  the  half-moons  in  his  glasses  when  Galla- 
tin appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  Phil,"  he  said  quietly,  offering  his  hand. 
He  sat  down  at  his  desk  again  and  formally  indicated  the 
chair  nearest  it.  His  manner  was  kindly  and  full  of  an 
old-fashioned  dignity,  indicating  neither  indifference  nor 
encouragement,  and  this  seemed  to  make  Philip  Gallatin's 
position  if  anything  more  difficult  and  painful.  Instead 
of  sitting,  Gallatin  turned  toward  the  window  and  stood 
there. 

"  I've  come  back,  Uncle  John,"  he  muttered. 

Kenyon  glanced  up  at  him,  the  calm  judicial  glance 

172 


THE   JUNIOR   MEMBER 


of  a  man  who,  having  no  venal  faults  himself,  tolerates 
them  in  others  with  difficulty.  There  was  no  family  rela- 
tionship between  the  men,  and  Gallatin's  use  of  the  familiar' 
term  at  this  time  meant  much,  and  something  in  Phil  Gal- 
latin's  pose  arrested  Kenyan's  eye,  the  jaw  that  had 
worked  forward  and  was  now  clamped  tightly  by  its 
throbbing  muscles,  the  bulk  of  the  squared  shoulders  and 
the  decision  with  which  one  hand  clasped  the  chair-back. 

"I'm  glad  of  that,  Phil,"  he  said.  "I  was  on  the 
point  of  thinking  you  had  given  me  up." 

"  I  had.  I  had  given  you  up.  I  haven't  been  down 
here  because  I  knew  it  wasn't  necessary  for  me  to  come 
and  because  I  thought  you'd  understand." 

"  I  understood." 

"  I  wrote  you  two  or  three  letters,  but  I  tore  them  up. 
I  wanted  to  sever  my  connection  with  the  firm.  I  wanted 
to  save  you  the  pain  of  thinking  about  me  any  longer. 
I  knew  I  hadn't  any  right  here,  that  I  haven't  had  any 
right  here  for  a  long  while — two  or  three  years,  that  I 
had  been  taking  my  share  of  fees  I  had  never  earned,  and 
that  it  was  only  through  your  friendship  for  me  that 
I've  been  encouraged  to  stay  as  long  as  this.  I  wanted 
to  save  you  the  pain  of  talking  to  me  again " 

"  I've  never  denied  you  my  friendship,  Phil.  I  don't 
deny  it  now.  I  only  thought  that  you  might  have " 

Gallatin  turned  swiftly  and  raised  his  hand. 

"  Don't,  Mr.  Kenyon !  For  God's  sake,  don't  reproach 
me,"  he  said  ardently.  "  Reproaches  won't  help  me — only 
wound.  They've  already  been  ringing  in  my  ears  for 
days — since  the  last  time "  he  paused. 

"  Never  mind." 

Gallatin  strode  the  length  of  the  room,  struggling  for 
the  control  of  his  voice,  and  when  he  came  back  it  was  to 
stand  facing  the  senior  partner  quite  composed. 

173 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  There  isn't  a  man  in  the  world  who  would  do  as 
much  for  one  who  merited  so  little.  I'm  not  going  over 
that.  Words  can't  mean  much  from  me  to  you ;  but  what 
I  would  like  you  to  know  is  that  I  don't  want  to  go  out  of 
the  firm,  and  that,  if  you'll  bear  with  me,  I  want  another 
chance  to  prove  myself.  I've  never  promised  anything. 
You've  never  asked  me  to.  Thank  God,  that  much  of 
my  self-respect  at  least  is  saved  out  of  the  ruins.  I  want 
to  give  my  word  now " 

"  Don't  do  that,"  said  Kenyon  hurriedly.  "  It  isn't 
necessary." 

"  Yes,  I  must.  I've  given  it  to  myself,  and  I'll  keep 
it,  never  fear.  That — was  the  last — the  very  last." 

Kenyon  twisted  his  thin  body  in  his  chair  and  looked 
up  at  the  junior  member  keenly,  but  as  he  did  so  his  eyes 
blurred  and  he  saw,  as  thirty  years  ago  he  had  seen  the 
figure  of  this  boy's  father  standing  as  Phil  Gallatin  was 
standing  enmeshed  in  the  toils  of  Fate,  gifted,  handsome, 
lovable — and  yet  doomed  to  go,  a  mental  and  physical 
ruin,  before  his  time.  The  resemblance  of  Philip  Gallatin 
to  his  father  was  striking — the  same  high  forehead,  heavy 
brows  and  deep-set  eyes,  the  same  cleanly  cut  aquiline 
nose,  and  heavy  chin.  There  were  lines,  too,  in  Phil 
Gallatin's  face,  lines  which  had  appeared  in  the  last  two 
years  which  made  the  resemblance  even  more  assured. 
And  yet  to  John  Kenyon,  there  seemed  to  be  a  difference. 
There  was  something  of  Evelyn  Westervelt  in  him,  too, 
the  clean  straight  line  of  the  jawbone  and  the  firmly 
modeled  lips,  thinner  than  the  father's  and  more  decisive. 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  Phil,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  I'm  not  asking  you  to  believe  in  me  again.  Broken 
faith  can't  be  repaired  by  phrases.  I  don't  want  you  to 
believe  in  me  until  I've  made  good.  I  want  to  come  in 
here  again  on  sufferance,  as  you  took  me  in  six  years  ago, 

174 


THE   JUNIOR   MEMBER 


without  a  share  in  the  business  of  the  firm  that  I  don't 
make  myself  or  for  which  I  don't  give  my  services.  I 
want  to  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder  again  and 
climb  it  rung  by  rung." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  listen  to  that.  Our  partnership  agree- 
ment  " 

"  That  agreement  is  canceled.  I  don't  want  a  partner- 
ship agreement.  It's  got  to  be  so.  I've  been  thinking 
hard,  Mr.  Kenyon.  It's  responsibility  I  need " 

"  You're  talking  nonsense,  Phil.  You  did  more  work 
in  the  Marvin  case  than  either  Hood  or  myself." 

"  Perhaps,  but  I  didn't  win  it,"  he  said  quickly. 

"  The  firm  did." 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you.  I'll  come  in  this  office  on 
the  conditions  I  suggest,  or  I  must  withdraw.  My  mind  is 
made  up  on  that.  I  don't  want  to  go,  and  it  won't  be 
easier  for  me  anywhere  else.  This  is  where  I  belong,  and 
this  is  where  I  want  to  fight  my  battle,  if  I  can  do  it  in 
my  own  way  without  the  moral  or  financial  help  of  any 
one — of  you,  least  of  all." 

Gallatin  paused  and  walked,  his  head  bent,  the  length 
of  the  room.  John  Kenyon  followed  him  with  his  eyes, 
then  turned  to  the  window  and  for  a  long  while  remained 
motionless.  Philip  Gallatin  returned  to  the  vacant  chair 
and  sat  leaning  forward  eagerly. 

The  senior  partner  turned  at  last,  his  kind  homely 
face  alight  with  a  smile. 

"  You  don't  need  my  faith,  my  boy,  if  you've  got  faith 
of  your  own,  but  I  give  it  to  you  gladly.  Give  me  your 
hand."  He  got  up  and  the  two  men  clasped  hands, 
and  Phil  Gallatin's  eyes  did  not  flicker  or  fade  before  the 
searching  gaze  of  the  other  man.  It  was  a  pact,  none  the 
less  solemn  for  the  silence  with  which  one  of  them  entered 
into  it. 

175 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  You're  awake,  Phil?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  that's  it,  Uncle  John.    Awake,"  said  Gallatin. 

"  I'm  glad — I'm  very  glad.  And  I  believe  it.  I've 
never  been  able  to  get  used  to  the  idea  of  jour  being  really 
out  of  here.  We  need  you,  my  boy,  and  I've  got  work 
for  you,  of  the  kind  that  will  put  your  mettle  to  the  test. 
There's  a  great  opportunity  in  it,  and  I'll  gladly  turn  it 
over  to  you.  'Sic  itur  ad  astra?  my  boy.  Will  you  take 
it?  " 

"  Gladly.     A  corporation  case?  " 

"  Sanborn  et  al.  vs.  The  Sanborn  Mining  Company. 
Sit  here  and  I'll  explain  it  to  you." 


(176 


XV 

DISCOVERED 

WOMEN  have  a  code  of  their  own,  a  system  of 
signals,  a  lip  and  sign  language  perfectly  in- 
telligible among  themselves,  but  mystifying,  as 
they  purpose  it  to  be,  to  mere  man.  Overweening  hus- 
bands, with  a  fine  air  of  letting  the  cat  out  of  the  bag, 
have  been  known  to  whisper  that  these  carefully  guarded 
secrets  are  no  secrets  at  all,  and  that  women  are  merely 
children  of  a  larger  growth,  playing  at  hide  and  seek 
with  one  another  (and  with  their  common  enemy)  for  the 
mere  love  of  the  game,  that  there  are  no  mysteries  in  their 
natures  to  be  solved,  and  that  the  vaunted  woman's  in- 
stinct, like  the  child's,  is  as  apt  to  be  wrong  as  often  as  it 
is  right.  Of  course,  no  one  believes  this,  and  even  if  one 
did,  man  would  go  his  way  and  woman  hers.  Woman 
would  continue  to  believe  in  the  accuracy  of  her  intuitions 
and  man  would  continue  to  marvel  at  them.  Woman 
would  continue  to  play  at  hide  and  seek,  and  man  would 
continue  to  enjoy  the  game. 

Call  them  by  what  name  you  please,  instinct,  intuition, 
or  guesswork,  Mrs.  Richard  Pennington  had  succeeded  by 
methods  entirely  feminine,  in  discovering  that  Phil  Galla- 
tin's  Dryad  was  Jane  Loring,  that  he  was  badly  in  love 
with  her  and  that  Jane  was  not  indifferent  to  his  atten- 
tions. Phil  Gallatin  had  not  been  difficult  to  read,  and 
Mrs.  Pennington  took  a  greater  pride  in  the  discovery  of 
Jane's  share  in  the  romance,  for  she  knew  when  Jane  left 

177 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


her  house  in  company  with  Phil  that  her  intuition  had  not 
erred. 

Jane  Loring  had  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks  and  called 
her  "  odious." 

This  in  itself  was  almost  enough,  but  to  complete  the 
chain  of  evidence,  she  learned  that  Dawson,  her  head 
coachman,  in  the  course  of  execution  of  her  orders,  had 
gone  as  far  North  as  125th  Street  before  his  unfortunate 
mistake  of  Miss  Loring's  number  had  been  discovered  by 
the  occupants  of  the  brougham. 

Mrs.  Pennington  realized  that  this  last  bit  of  evidence 
had  been  obtained  at  the  expense  of  a  breach  of  hos- 
pitality, for  she  was  not  a  woman  who  made  a  practice 
of  talking  with  her  servants,  but  she  was  sure  that  the 
ends  had  justified  the  means  and  the  complete  success  of 
her  maneuver  more  than  compensated  for  her  slight  loss 
of  self-respect  in  its  accomplishment. 

But  while  her  discovery  pleased  her,  she  was  not  with- 
out a  sense  of  responsibility  in  the  matter.  She  had  been 
hoping  for  a  year  that  a  girl  of  the  right  kind  would  come 
between  Phil  and  the  fate  he  seemed  to  be  courting,  for 
since  his  mother's  death  he  had  lived  alone,  and  seclusion 
was  not  good  for  men  of  his  habits.  She  had  wanted  Phil 
to  meet  Jane  Loring,  and  her  object  in  bringing  them  to- 
gether had  been  expressed  in  a  definite  hope  that  they 
would  learn  to  like  each  other  a  great  deal.  But  now  that 
she  knew  what  their  relations  were,  she  was  slightly  op- 
pressed by  the  thought  of  unpleasant  possibilities. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  these  reflections  that  Miss 
Jaffray  was  announced,  and  in  a  moment  she  entered  the 
room  with  a  long  half-mannish,  half-feline  stride  and  took 
up  her  place  before  the  mantelpiece  where  she  stood,  her 
feet  apart,  toasting  her  back  at  the  open  fire.  Mrs.  Pen- 
nington indicated  the  cigarettes,  and  Nina  Jaffray  took 

178 


DISCOVERED 


one,  rolling  it  in  her  fingers  and  tapping  the  end  of  it  on 
her  wrist  to  shake  out  the  loose  dust  as  a  man  would  do. 

"  I'm  flattered,  Nina,"  said  Nellie  Pennington.  "  To 
what  virtue  of  mine  am  I  indebted  for  the  earliness  of  this 
visit?  " 

"  I  slept  badly,"  said  Nina  laconically. 

"  And  I'm  the  anodyne?    Thanks." 

"  Oh,  no ;  merely  an  antidote." 

"For  what?" 

"  Myself.    I've  got  the  blues." 

"You!    Impossible." 

"  Oh,  yes.     It's  quite  true.    I'm  quite  wretched." 

"  Dressmaker  or  milliner?" 

"  Neither.  Just  bored,  I  think;  You  know  I've  been 
out  five  years  now.  Think  of  it !  And  I'm  twenty-four. 
Isn't  that  enough  to  make  an  angel  weep?  " 

"  It's  too  sad  to  mention,"  said  Mrs.  Pennington. 
"  You  used  to  be  such  a  nice  little  thing,  too." 

Nina  Jaffray  raised  a  hand  in  protest. 

"  Don't,  Nellie,  it's  no  joke,  I  can  tell  you.  I'm  not 
a  nice  little  thing  any  longer,  and  I  know  it.  I'm  a  hoy- 
denish,  hard-riding,  loud-spoken  vixen,  and  that's  the 
truth.  I  wish  I  was  a  '  nice  little  thing '  as  you  call  it, 
like  Jane  Loring  for  instance,  with  illusions  and  hopes 
and  a  proclivity  for  virtue.  I'm  not.  I  like  the  talk  of 
men " 

"  That's  not  unnatural — so  do  I." 

"  I  mean  the  talk  of  men  among  men.  They  interest 
me,  more  what  they  say  than  what  they  are.  They're 
genuine,  somehow.  You  can  get  the  worst  and  the  best 
of  them  at  a  sitting.  One  can't  do  that  with  women. 
Most  of  us  are  forever  purring  and  pawing  and  my- 
dearing  one  another  when  we  know  that  what  we  want  to 
do  is  to  spit  and  claw.  I  like  the  easy  ways  of  men — col- 

179 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


lectively,  Nellie,  not  individually,  and  I've  come  and  gone 
among  them  because  it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world  to  do.  I've  made  a  mistake.  I  know  it  now. 
When  a  girl  gets  to  be  '  a  good  fellow  '  she  does  it  at 
the  expense  either  of  her  femininity  or  her  morals.  And 
men  make  the  distinction  without  difficulty.  I'm  '  a  good 
fellow,' "  she  said  scornfully,  "  and  I'm  decent.  Men 
know  it,  but  they  know,  too,  that  I  have  no  individual 
appeal.  Why  only  last  week  at  the  Breakfast  the  Sackett 
boy  clapped  me  on  the  back  and  called  me  '  a  jolly  fine 
chap.'  I  put  him  down,  I  can  tell  you.  I'd  rather  he'd, 
called  me  anything — anything — even  something  dread-* 
ful — if  it  had  only  been  feminine." 

She  flicked  her  cigarette  into  the  fire  and  dropped  into 
a  chair. 

Mrs.  Pennington  laughed. 

"  All  this  is  very  unmanly  of  you,  Nina." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  joking.  You're  like  the  others.  Just} 
because  I've  ridden  through  life  with  a  light  hand,  you 
think  I'm  in  no  danger  of  a  cropper.  Well,  I  am.  I've 
had  too  light  a  hand,  and  I'm  out  in  the  back-stretch  with! 
a  winded  horse.  You  didn't  make  that  mistake,  Nellie^ 
Why  couldn't  you  have  warned  me?  " 

Mrs.  Pennington  held  off  the  embroidery  frame  at 
arm's  length  and  examined  it  with  interest. 

"  You  didn't  ask  me  to,  Nina,"  she  replied  quietly. 

"  No,  I  didn't.  I  never  ask  advice.  When  I  do,  it's 
only  to  do  the  other  thing.  But  you  might  have  offered 
it  just  the  same." 

"  I  might  have,  if  I  knew  you  wouldn't  have  followed 
it." 

"  No,"  reflectively.  "  I  think  I'd  have  done  what  you! 
said.  I  like  you  immensely,  you  know,  Nellie.  You're  a 
good  sort — besides  being  everything  I'm  not." 

180 


DISCOVERED 


"  Meaning — what?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.    You're  all  woman,  for  one  thing." 

"  I  have  had  two  children,"  smiled  the  other  toward 
the  ceiling.     "  I  could  hardly  be  anything  else." 
•        "Is   that  it?"  asked  the  visitor;  and  then  after  a 
(pause,  "  I  don't  like  children." 

"  Not  other  people's.     You'd  adore  your  own." 

"  I  wonder." 

Mrs.  Pennington's  pretty  shoulders  gave  an  expressive 
shrug. 

"  Marry,  my  dear.  Nothing  defines  one's  sex  so  accu- 
rately. Marry  for  love  if  you  can,  marry  for  money  if 
you  must,  but  marry  just  the  same.  You  may  be  un- 
happy, but  you'll  never  be  bored." 

Nina  Jaffray  gazed  long  into  the  fire. 

"  I've  been  thinking  about  it,"  she  said.  "  That's 
>^hat  I  came  to  see  you  about." 

"  Oh,  Nina,  I'm  delighted ! "  cried  Nellie  Pennington 
genuinely,  "  and  so  flattered.  Who,  my  dear  child?  " 

"  I've  been  thinking — seriously." 

"  You  must  have  had  dozens  of  offers." 

"  Oh,  yes,  from  fortune  hunters  and  gentlemen  jockeys, 
but  I'm  not  a  philanthropic  institution.  Curiously  enough 
my  taste  is  quite  conventional.  I  want  a  New  Yorker — 
a  man  with  a  mind — with  a  future,  perhaps,  neither  a  prig 
nor  a  rake — human  enough  not  to  be  too  good,  decent 
enough  not  to  be  burdensome — a  man  with  weaknesses,  if 
you  like,  a  poor  man,  perhaps " 

"Nina.     Who?" 

Miss  Jaffray  paused. 

"  I  thought  I'd  marry  Phil  Gallatin,"  she  said  quietly. 

Mrs.  Pennington  laid  her  embroidery  frame  down  and 
looked  up  quickly.  Nina  Jaffray's  long  legs  were  ex- 
tended toward  the  blaze,  but  her  head  was  lowered  and  her 

181 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


eyes  gazed  steadily  before  her.  It  was  easily  to  be  seen 
that  she  was  quite  serious — more  serious  than  Mrs.  Pen- 
nington  liked. 

"  Phil  Gallatin!    Oh,  Nina,  you  can't  mean  it?  " 

"  I  do.  There  isn't  a  man  in  New  York  I'd  rather 
marry  than  Phil." 

"  Does  he  know  it  ?  " 

"  No.     But  I  mean  that  he  shall." 

"  Don't  be  foolish.  You  two  would  end  in  the  ditch 
in  no  time." 

Nina  straightened  and  examined  her  hostess  calmly. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so "  Nellie  Pennington  paused,  and 

whatever  it  was  that  she  had  in  mind  to  say  remained 
unspoken.  Instinct  had  already  warned  her  that  Nina 
was  the  kind  of  girl  who  is  only  encouraged  by  obstacles., 
and  it  was  not  her  duty  to  impose  them. 

"  Stranger  things  have  happened,  Nellie,"  she  laughed. 

"  But  are  you  sure  Phil  will — er — accept  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  and  I  shan't  be  discouraged  if  he  refuses," 
she  went  on  oblivious  of  Nellie  Pennington's  humor. 

"  Then  you  do  mean  to  speak  to  him?  " 

"  Of  course."  Nina's  eyes  showed  only  grave  surprise 
at  the  question.  "  How  should  he  know  it  otherwise?  " 

"  Your  methods  are  nothing,  if  not  direct." 

"  Phil  would  never  guess  unless  I  told  him.  For  a 
clever  man  he's  singularly  stupid  about  women.  I  think 
that's  why  I  like  him.  Why  shouldn't  I  tell  him?  What's 
the  use  of  beating  around  the  bush?  It's  such  a  waste  of 
time  and  energy." 

Mrs.  Pennington's  laugh  threw  discretion  to  the  winds. 

"  Oh,  Nina,  you'll  be  the  death  of  me  yet.  There 
never  was  such  a  passion  since  the  beginning  of  Time." 

182 


DISCOVERED 


"  I  didn't  say  I  loved  Phil  Gallatin,"  corrected  Nina 
promptly.  "I  said  I'd  decided  to  marry  him." 

"  And  have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that  he  shares 
your — er — nubile  emotions?  " 

"  None  whatever.  He  has  always  been  quite  indifferent 
to  me — to  all  women.  I  think  the  arrangement  might  be 
advantageous  to  him.  He's  quite  poor  and  I've  got  more 
money  than  I  know  what  to  do  with.  He's  not  a  fool,  and 
I'm — Nellie,  I'm  not  old-looking  or  ugly,  am  I?  Why 
shouldn't  he  like  me,  if  he  doesn't  like  any  one  else?  " 

"  No  reason  in  the  world,  dear.  I'd  marry  you,  if  I 
were  a  man." 

Mrs.  Pennington  took  to  cover  uneasily,  conscious  that 
here  was  a  situation  over  which  she  could  have  no  control. 
She  was  not  in  Phil  Gallatin's  confidence  or  in  Jane  Lor- 
ing's,  and  the  only  kind  of  discouragement  she  could  offer 
must  fail  of  effectiveness  with  a  girl  who  all  her  life  had 
done  everything  in  the  world  that  she  wanted  to  do,  and 
who  had  apparently  decided  that  what  she  now  wanted 
was  Phil  Gallatin.  Nina's  plans  would  have  been  amusing 
had  they  not  been  rather  pathetic,  for  Nellie  Pennington 
had  sought  and  found  below  her  visitor's  calm  exterior,  a 
vein  of  seriousness,  of  regret  and  self-reproach,  which  was 
not  to  be  diverted  by  the  usual  methods.  Did  she  really 
care  for  Phil?  Clever  as  Mrs.  Pennington  was,  she  could 
not  answer  that.  But  she  knew  that  it  was  a  part  of  Nina 
Jaffray's  methods  to  do  the  unexpected  thing,  so  that  her 
sincerity  was  therefore  always  open  to  question.  Nellie 
Pennington  took  the  benefit  of  that  doubt. 

"  Has  it  occurred  to  you,  Nina,  that  he  may  care  for 
some  one  else  ?  " 

Her  visitor  turned  quickly.  "  You  don't  think  so,  do 
you?  "  she  asked  sharply. 

"  How  should  /  know?  "  Mrs.  Pennington  evaded. 
183 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I've  thought  of  that,  Nellie.  Who  was  Phil's  wood- 
nymph?  He's  very  secretive  about  it.  I  wonder  why." 

"  I  don't  believe  there  was  a  wood-nymph,"  said  Mrs. 
Pennington  slowly.  "  Besides,  Phil  would  hardly  be  in 
love  with  that  sort  of  girl." 

"  That's  just  the  point.  What  sort  of  a  girl  was  she? 
What  reason  could  Phil  have  for  keeping  the  thing  a 
secret?  Was  it  an  amourette?  If  it  was,  then  it's  Phil 
Gallatin's  business  and  nobody  else's.  But  if  the  girl  was 
one  of  Phil's  own  class  and  station,  like " 

"  Miss  Loring,"  announced  the  French  maid  softly 
from  the  doorway. 

Nina  Jaffray  paused  and  an  expression  of  annoyance 
crossed  her  face.  She  straightened  slowly  in  her  chair, 
then  rose  and  walked  across  the  room.  Mrs.  Pennington 
hoped  that  she  would  go,  but  she  only  took  another 
cigarette  and  lit  it  carefully. 

"  You're  too  popular,  Nellie,"  she  said,  taking  a  chair 
by  the  fire. 

Mrs.  Pennington  raised  a  protesting  hand. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Nina.  For  years  I've  been  dreading 
that  adjective.  When  a  woman  finds  herself  popular  with 
her  own  sex  it  means  that  she's  either  too  passee  to  be 
dangerous,  too  staid  to  be  interesting,  or  too  stupid  to  be 
either.  Morning,  Jane !  So  glad !  Is  it  chilly  out  or  are 
those  cheeks  your  impersonal  expression  of  the  joy  of 
living?  " 

"Both,  you  lazy  creature!  How  do  you  do,  Nina? 
This  is  my  dinner  call,  Mrs.  Pennington.  I  simply  couldn't 
wait  to  be  formal." 

"  I'm  glad,  dear."  And  then  mischievously,  "  Did  you 
get  home  safely?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  it  was  a  pity  to  take  poor  Mr.  Gallatin 
so  far  out  of  his  way,"  she  replied  carelessly. 

184 


DISCOVERED 


"Poor  Phil !  That's  the  fate  of  these  stupid  ineligible 
bachelors — to  act  as  postilion  to  the  chariot  of  Venus. 
Awfully  nice  boy,  but  so  uninteresting  at  times." 

"Is  he?  I  thought  him  very  attractive,"  said  Jane. 
"  He's  one  of  the  Gallatins,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  the  last  of  them.  I  was  afraid  you 
wouldn't  like  him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do.  Quite  a  great  deal.  He's  a  friend  of 
yours,  isn't  he,  Nina?  " 

"  I've  known  him  for  ages,"  said  Miss  Jaffray  dryly ; 
and  then  to  Mrs.  Pennington,  "  Why  shouldn't  Jane  like 
him,  Nellie?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  finished  with  a  gesture  of 
graceful  retirement.  Their  game  of  hide  and  seek  was 
amusing,  but  hazardous  in  the  present  company,  so  she 
quickly  turned  the  conversation  into  other  channels. 

Nina  Jaffray  and  Jane  Loring  had  met  in  the  late 
autumn  at  a  house  party  at  the  Ledyards'  place  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  while  their  natures  were  hardly  concordant, 
each  had  found  in  the  other  some  ingredients  which  made 
for  amiability.  Jane's  interest  had  been  dictated  by 
curiosity  rather  than  approval,  for  Nina  Jaffray  was  like 
no  other  girl  she  had  ever  met  before.  Whatever  her  man- 
ners, and  these,  Jane  discovered,  could  be  atrocious,  her 
instincts  were  good,  and  her  intentions  seemed  of  the  best. 
To  Miss  Jaffray,  Jane  Loring  was  '  a  nice  little  thing ' 
who  had  shown  a  disposition  not  to  interfere  with  other 
people's  plans,  a  nice  little  thing,  amiable  and  a  trifle 
prudish,  for  whom  Nina's  kind  of  men  hadn't  seemed  to 
care.  They  had  not  been,  and  could  never  be  intimate, 
but  upon  a  basis  of  good  fellowship,  they  existed  with 
mutual  toleration  and  regard. 

Nellie  Pennington,  from  her  shadowed  corner,  watched 
the  two  girls  with  the  keenest  of  interest  and  curiosity. 

185 


Nina  Jaffray  sat  with  hands  clasped  around  one  upraised 
knee,  her  head  on  one  side  listening  carelessly  to  Jane's 
enthusiastic  account  of  the  Ledyards'  ball,  commenting 
only  in  monosyllables,  but  interested  in  spite  of  herself 
in  Jane's  ingenuous  point  of  view,  aware  in  her  own  heart 
of  a  slight  sense  of  envy  that  she  no  longer  possessed  a 
susceptibility  to  those  fresh  impressions. 

Nina  was  not  pretty  this  morning,  Nellie  Pennington 
thought.  Hers  was  the  effectiveness  of  midnight  which 
requires  a  spot-light  and  accessories  and,  unless  in  the 
hunting  field,  midday  was  unkind  to  her;  while  Jane  who 
had  danced  late  brought  with  her  all  the  freshness  of 
early  blossoms.  But  she  liked  Nina,  and  that  remarkable 
confession,  however  stagy  and  Nina-esque,  had  set  her 
thinking  about  Jane  Loring  and  Mr.  Gallatin.  It  was 
a  pretty  triangle  and  promised  interesting  possibilities. 

Jane  was  still  speaking  when  Nina  interrupted,  as 
though  through  all  that  she  had  heard,  one  train  of 
thought  had  persisted. 

"  What  did  you  mean,  Nellie,  about  Phil  Gallatin 
being  ineligible  ?  "  she  asked.  "  And  I  know  you  don't 
think  him  stupid.  And  why  shouldn't  Jane  Loring  like 
him?  I  don't  think  I  understand?  " 

Nellie  Pennington  smiled.  She  had  made  a  mistake. 
Hide  and  seek  as  a  game  depends  for  its  success  upon  the 
elimination  of  the  bystander. 

"  I  am  afraid,  of  course,  that  Jane  would  be  falling 
in  love  with  him,"  she  said  lightly.  And  then,  "  That 
would  have  been  a  pity.  Don't  you  think  so,  Nina  ?  " 

"  There's  hardly  a  danger  of  that,"  laughed  Jane, 
'*  seeing  that  I've  just — just  been  introduced  to  the  man. 
[You  needn't  be  at  all  afraid,  Nina." 

"  I'm  not.     Besides   he's   awfully   gone   on   a  wood- 
186 


nymph.  You  saw  him  blush  when  I  spoke  of  it  at  dinner 
here — didn't  you,  Jane  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  Jane,  now  quite  rosy  herself. 

"  Phil  wouldn't  have  blushed  you  know,"  said  Nina 
confidently,  "  unless  he  was  terribly  rattled.  He  was 
rattled.  That's  what  I  can't  understand.  Suppose  he 
did  find  a  girl  who  was  lost  in  the  woods.  What  of  it? 
It's  nobody's  business  but  his  own  and  the  girl's.  I'd  be 
furious  if  people  talked  about  me  the  way  they're  talking 
about  Phil  and  that  girl.  I  was  lost  once  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  You  were,  too,  in  Canada  only  last  summer,  Jane. 
You  told  me  so  down  in  Virginia  and 

Jane  Loring  had  struggled  hard  to  control  her  emo- 
tion, and  bent  her  head  forward  to  conceal  her  discom- 
posure, but  Nina's  eyes  caught  the  rising  color  which  had 
flowed  to  the  very  tips  of  her  ears. 

"  Jane!  "  cried  Nina  in  sharp  accents  of  amazed  dis- 
covery. "  It  was  you !  " 

The  game  of  hide  and  seek  had  terminated  disastrously 
for  Jane,  and  her  system  of  signals,  useful  to  deceive  as 
well  as  reveal  had  betrayed  her.  It  was  clearly  to  be 
seen  that  further  dissimulation  would  be  futile,  so  she 
raised  her  head  slowly,  the  color  gone  from  her  cheeks. 

"  Yes,  it  was  I,"  she  said  with  admirable  coolness. 
"  Meeting  Mr.  Gallatin  here  the  other  night  reminded  me 
of  it.  That  was  one  of  the  things  I  came  to  tell  Mrs. 
Pennington  this  morning.  But  I  don't  suppose  there's 
any  reason  why  you  shouldn't  know  it,  too,  Nina.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Mr.  Gallatin  I  know  I  should  have  died* 
You  see,  I  had  slipped  and  wrenched  my  ankle  and,  of; 
course,  couldn't  move " 

"  It  must  have  been  terrible !  "  put  in  Nellie  Penning-* 
ton  in  dire  distress.  "  You  poor  child !  " 

"  I  haven't  spoken  of  it,"  Jane  went  on  hurriedlyg 

1ST 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  because  there  wasn't  any  reason  why  I  should.  But 
now,  of  course,  that  this  story  is  going  the  rounds,  it's 
just  as  well  that  people  knew.  It  wasn't  necessary  to  tell 
Mr.  Gallatin  my  name  up  there,  and  until  he  met  me  in 
New  York  he  did  not  know  who  I  was.  That,  of  course, 
is  why  the  whole  thing  has  seemed  so  mysterious."  She 
paused  and  smiled  rather  obtrusively  at  her  companions. 
"  It's  really  a  very  trivial  matter  to  make  such  a  fuss 
about,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Absurd !  "  said  Mrs.  Pennington,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  I  wouldn't  worry  about  it  in  the  least." 

"  It  does  sound  rather  romantic,  though,"  laughed 
Jane  uneasily,  "  but  it  wasn't  a  bit.  We  nearly  starved 
and  poor  Mr.  Gallatin  was  almost  dead  with  fatigue — 
when  they  found  us." 

"  Who  found  you  ?  "  asked  Miss  Jaff ray. 

"  The  guides,  of  course." 

"Oh!"  said  Nina. 

Nellie  Pennington  put  down  her  embroidery  and  rose. 
This  wouldn't  do. 

"  Jane,"  she  said  laughing.  "  You  make  me  wild  with 
envy.  You're  a  person  to  whom  all  sorts  of  interesting 
things  are  always  happening.  And  now  I  hear  you're 
engaged  to  Coleman  Van  Duyn.  Come,  child,  sit  here  and 
tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  It's  not  true.  I'm  very  flattered,  of  course, 
but " 

"  You'd  better  admit  it.  Nina  won't  tell,  will  you, 
Nina?  " 

But  Miss  Jaffray  had  risen  and  was  drawing  on  her 
gloves. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  wouldn't  tell.  Besides — you  know  I  don't 
believe  it."  She  glanced  at  the  clock,  and  brushed  a  speck 
from  her  sleeve. 

188 


"  I  think  I'll  be  going  on,"  she  said.  "  Good-by,  Jane. 
Nellie,  I'll  see  you  at  the  '  Pot  and  Kettle,'  won't  I?  "  and 
went  out  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Pennington  followed  her  to  the  upper  landing 
and  when  she  had  gone,  returned  thoughtfully  to  the 
room. 


189 


XVI 

BEHIND  THE  ENEMY'S  BACK 

AS  she  turned  and  came  into  the  room  again,  Jane 
Loring  met  her  in  the  middle  of  the  rug,  seized  her 
in  her  arms,  kissed  her  rapturously  on  both  cheeks, 
and  confessed,  though  not  without  some  hesitation,  the 
object  of  her  visit.  Nellie  Pennington  led  her  to  a  divan 
near  the  window,  and  seated  there  holding  one  of  her 
visitor's  hands  in  both  of  hers,  listened  enchanted  to  the 
full  tale  of  Jane's  romance.  Her  delight  was  undisguised, 
'for  Nina  Jaffray's  rather  frigid  exit  had  already  been 
forgotten  by  them  both. 

"  Oh,  Nellie,  I'm  so  happy.  I  simply  had  to  tell  some- 
body. I  wanted  to  come  here  yesterday,  but  I  couldn't 
muster  up  the  courage." 

"And  I'm  not  really  'odious'?"  asked  Mrs.  Pen- 
nington. 

"  No,  no,"  laughed  Jane.  "  You're  a  sister  to  the 
angels.  I  hated  him,  Nellie,  that  night.  I  would  have 
died  rather  than  let  him  know  I  cared  for  him — and  yet — 
I  did  let  him  know  it " 

"  Love  and  hate  are  first  cousins.  Love  hates  because 
it's  afraid,  Jane." 

"  Yes,  that's  true.  I  was  afraid  of  myself — of 
him " 

"  Not  now?  " 

"No,"  proudly.  "Not  even  of  Fate  itself.  We'll 
face  whatever  is  to  come — together.  I  believe  in  him — 
utterly." 

190 


BEHIND   THE   ENEMY'S   BACK 

Nellie  Pennington  kissed  her. 

"  So  do  I,  Jane.  I  always  have — and  in  you.  I  can't 
tell  you  how  glad  I  am  that  you  have  told  me  all  this. 
Flattered,  too,  child.  I'm  rather  worldly  wise,  perhaps, 
even  more  so  than  your  mother " 

"  I  haven't  told  mother,"  Jane  put  in  with  sudden 
demureness. 

"  Take  my  advice  and  do  so  immediately.  Omit  noth- 
ing. Your  mother  must  put  a  stop  to  this  story  by  telling 
the  truth." 

"  Mother,  you  know,  had  hoped  that  I  would  marry 
Coleman  Van  Duyn.  She  doesn't  approve  of  Phil,  and 
father — "  Jane  paused  as  she  remembered  her  father's 
estimate  of  Phil  Gallatin —  "  and  neither  does  my  father," 
she  finished  thoughtfully. 

"  Oh,  it  will  work  out  some  way ;  such  things  do.  But] 
tell  them  at  once." 

"  I  think  I  had  already  decided  that.  But  it  isn'iJ 
going  to  be  easy.  With  me — with  mother,  my  father  iss 
the  soul  of  kindness,  but  with  men "  She  paused. 

"  Phil  must  take  his  chance." 

"  Yes,  but  father  must  respect  him." 

"  Phil  must  earn  his  respect." 

Jane  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  My  father  has  a  sharp  tongue  at  times,"  she  went 
on.  "  He  has  mentioned  Phil  Gallatin's  name — unpleas- 
antly. I  couldn't  stand  hearing  him  spoken  about  in  that 
way.  I  couldn't  listen.  I  couldn't  tolerate  it — even  from 
my  father.  I  have  made  a  decision  and  father  must 
abide  by  it.  He  must  accept  Phil  as  I  have  accepted  him. 
I  am  satisfied.  A  man's  past  is  his  own.  He  can  only 
give  a  girl  his  future.  I  used  to  think  differently,  but  I'm 
content  with  that.  Phil's  future  is  mine,  and  I'll  take  my 
half  of  it,  whatever  it  is." 

191 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


At  the  mention  of  her  father,  Jane  had  risen  and 
walked  restlessly  about,  but  as  she  finished  speaking  she 
turned  and  faced  her  companion  squarely.  Nellie  Pen- 
nington  rose  and  took  her  again  in  her  arms. 

"  You'll  do,  Jane.  I'm  not  afraid  for  you — for  either 
of  you.  Let  me  help  you.  I  want  to.  I  don't  think  I 
could  be  happier  if  I  were  in  love  myself.  He's  worthy  of 
you.  I'm  sure  of  it.  Shall  you  marry  him  soon,  dear?" 

Jane  colored  adorably. 

"  No — not  soon,  I  think.  We  have  not  spoken  of  that. 
Phil  wants  time — to  prove — to  show — everybody " 

She  paused  and  Nellie  Pennington  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief.  Her  responsibilities  had  oppressed  her. 

"  Let  him,  Jane,"  she  urged  quickly.  "  It's  better  so. 
You're  very  young.  There's  plenty  of  time.  A  year  or 
two  and  then " 

"  I'll  marry  him  when  he  asks  me  to,"  Jane  finished 
simply. 

Nellie  Pennington  pressed  her  hands  warmly,  and  they 
sat  for  a  long  time  side  by  side  while  Jane  told  of  all  that 
had  happened  in  the  woods,  including  the  sudden  and  un- 
pleasant termination  of  her  idyl.  Nellie  Pennington  lis- 
tened soberly,  and  learned  more  of  the  definiteness  with 
which  fate  had  placed  the  steps  of  these  two  young  people 
upon  the  same  pathway  into  the  future.  Love  dwelt  in 
Jane's  eyes  and  confidence,  a  trust  and  belief  in  Phil 
>Gallatin  that  put  Nellie  Pennington's  rather  assertive 
indorsement  of  him  to  the  blush.  She  realized  now  that 
below  Jane  Loring's  placid  exterior,  there  was  a  depth  of 
feeling,  a  quiet  strength  and  resolution  of  which  she  had 
never  even  dreamed;  for  she,  too,  had  thought  Jane  a 
"  nice  little  thing " — a  pretty,  amiable,  cheerful  soul 
without  prejudices,  who  would  add  much  to  her  own  joy 
©f  life,  and  to  the  intimate  circle  of  young  people  she 

192 


BEHIND  THE  ENEMY'S  BACK 

chose  to  gather  around  her.  Some  of  the  girl's  faith 
found  its  way  into  her  own  heart  and  she  saw  Phil  now, 
as  she  had  always  hoped  to  see  him,  taking  his  place 
among  the  workers  of  the  world,  using  the  brains  God  had 
given  him,  and  accomplishing  the  great  things  that  she 
knew  had  always  been  within  his  power  to  accomplish. 

When  Jane  rose  to  go,  Mrs.  Pennington  detained  her 
a  moment  longer. 

"  How  well  do  you  know  Nina  Jaff ray  ?  "  she  asked 
slowly. 

"  Oh,  we've  always  got  along  admirably,  because  we've 
never  interfered  with  each  other,  I  think.  But  I  don't 
understand  her — nor  does  she  me.  Why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Oh— I  don't  know " 

"  I  thought  you  liked  her,  Nellie." 

"  I  do.  I  like  everybody  who  doesn't  bore  me.  Nina 
amuses  me  because  she  keeps  me  in  a  continual  state  of 
surprise.  That's  all  very  well  so  long  as  her  surprises 
are  pleasant  ones ;  but  when  she  wishes  to  be  annoying, 
I  assure  you  she  can  be  amazingly  disagreeable." 

"  I  imagine  so.  But  I  don't  think  we'll  have  differ- 
ences— at  least  I  hope " 

"  Don't  be  too  intimate — that's  all.     Understand?  " 

They  kissed;  after  which  Jane  departed,  and  on  the 
way  uptown  found  herself  wondering  from  time  to  time 
whether  Nellie  Pennington  could  have  meant  something 
more  than  Jane  thought  she  did.  But  in  her  state  of 
exaltation  nothing  could  long  avail  to  divert  her  spirit 
from  its  joyous  flight  among  the  enchanted  realms  that 
had  been  discovered  to  her.  That  afternoon  late,  it  was 
only  going  to  be  very  late  in  the  afternoon  she  now  re- 
membered, Phil  Gallatin  was  to  walk  home  with  her  from 
somebody's  tea,  to-morrow  they  were  to  dine  at  the  Dorsey- 
Mar  tin's,  and  late  in  the  week  there  was  the  party  at  the 

193 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Pot  and  Kettle."  After  that— but  what  did  it  matter 
what  happened  after  that?  Each  day,  she  knew,  was  to 
be  more  wonderful  than  the  one  that  had  gone  before  and 
it  was  not  well  to  question  the  future  too  insistently. 
Sufficient  unto  the  day  was  the  good  thereof,  and  Solomon 
indeed  was  not  arrayed — inwardly  at  least — as  Jane  was. 

Taking  Mrs.  Pennington's  advice,  as  soon  as  she 
reached  home  she  sought  her  mother's  room.  Mrs.  Loring 
was  reclining  at  full  length  on  a  portable  wooden  table 
which  had  been  set  up  in  the  middle  of  her  large  apart- 
ment, and  an  osteopath  was  busy  manipulating  her  small 
body.  There  wasn't  really  anything  the  matter  with  her 
except  social  fag,  but  she  chose  this  method  of  rehabili- 
tating her  tired  nerves  instead  of  active  exercise  which 
she  abhorred.  It  was  almost  with  a  feeling  of  pity  that 
Jane  sat  beside  her  mother  when  the  practitioner  had  de- 
parted, for  she  knew  that  a  scene  would  follow  her  con- 
fidences. And  she  was  not  mistaken ;  for  when  half  an 
hour  later,  Jane  went  to  her  own  room,  her  mother  was 
in  a  state  of  collapse  upon  her  bed,  and  Jane's  nerves 
were  singing  like  taut  wires,  while  on  her  mind  were  un- 
pleasantly impressed  the  final  words  of  maternal  recrim- 
ination. But  Jane  knew  that  in  spite  of  the  violence 
of  her  mother's  opposition,  she  was  very  much  less  to  be 
dreaded  than  her  father,  and  that  by  to-morrow  she  would 
be  reconciled  to  her  daughter's  point  of  view  and  even 
might  be  reckoned  upon  as  an  ally.  Nor  would  she  speak 
to  Mr.  Loring  without  her  daughter's  acquiescence.  This 
«Tane  had  no  intention  of  giving,  for  she  was  sure  that 
a  meeting  of  her  father  and  Phil,  which  must,  of  course, 
ensue  at  once,  was  not  to  be  looked  forward  to  with  pleas- 
urable expectation. 

It  was  therefore  in  no  very  happy  mood  that  Jane 
met  Phil  Gallatin  late  that  afternoon  at  the  Suydams' 

194 


tea  whence  lie  went  home  with  her.  She  had  said  nothing 
of  her  interview  with  her  mother,  and  was  relieved  to 
learn  at  the  house  that  Mrs.  Loring  had  gone  out. 

She  led  Phil  back  into  the  library  and  they  sat  before 
the  open  fire. 

"  What  is  it,  Jane  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Are  you  regret- 
ting  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  smiled.  "  There  isn't  room  in  my  heart 
for  regret.  It's  full  of — other  things." 

"  I'm  very  dense.     Can  you  prove  it?  " 

"  I'll  try." 

The  davenport  was  huge,  but  only  one  end  of  it  com- 
plained of  their  weight. 

"  Phil,  are  you  sure  there  is  no  mistake  ?  " 

"  Positive." 

"  And  you  never  cared  for  any  one  else  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"Not  Nina  Jaffray?  " 

"  No,  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  She  once  told  me  you  had  a  boy-and-girl  affair." 

"  Oh,  that !  She  used  to  tease  me  and  I  would  wash 
her  face  in  the  snow.  That's  Nina's  idea  of  mutual  affec- 
tion." 

"  It  isn't  her  idea  now,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  You'll  have  to  ask  Larry 
Kane." 

"  And  you  don't  ever  think  about  her?  " 

"  No — except  with  vague  alarm  for  the  safety  of  the 
species." 

Jane  laughed.  "  I  don't  want  you  to  be  unkind,"  she 
said,  but  was  not  displeased. 

There  was  a  silence  in  which  Gallatin  peered  around 
the  great  room  and  his  eyes  smiled  as  they  sought  her 
face  again. 

195 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  "  she  asked. 

"  Of  this  shelter — and  another." 

"  Up  among  the  pine  trees?  Oh,  how  white  and  cold  it 
must  be  there  now!  It's  ours  though,  Phil,  so  per- 
sonal  " 

"  I'll  build  another — here  in  New  York." 

"Not  like  this?" 

"  No — hardly — "   he   smiled. 

"  I'm  glad  of  that.  This  house  oppresses  me.  It's  so 
big — so  silent  and  yet  so  noisy  with  the  money  that  has 
been  spent  on  it.  I  don't  like  money,  Phil." 

"  That's  because  you've  never  felt  the  need  of  it. 
I'm  glad  you  don't,  though.  You  know  I'm  not  very  well 
off." 

"  I  don't  suppose  Daddy  would  ever  let  me  starve," 
she  laughed. 

His  expression  changed  and  he  chose  his  words  deliber- 
ately, his  face  turned  toward  the  fire. 

"  It  isn't  my  intention  to  place  you  in  any  such  posi- 
tion," he  said  with  curious  precision.  "  I  don't  think  you 
understand.  It  isn't  possible  for  me  to  accept  anything 
from  your  father,  except  yourself,  Jane.  I'll  take  you 
empty-handed  as  I  first  found  you — or  not  at  all." 

"  But  even  then  you  know  it  was  my  saucepan " 

But  he  shook  his  head.  "  It  isn't  a  question  of  sauce- 
pans now." 

"  You're  not  fair,  Phil,"  she  murmured  soberly.  "  Is 
it  my  fault  that  father  has  become  what  he  is?  Why 
shouldn't  I  help?  I  have  something  of  my  own — some 
stock  in " 

He  closed  her  lips  with  a  kiss. 

"  I've  got  to  have  my  own  way.  Can't  you  under- 
stand?" he  whispered  earnestly.  "It's  my  sanity  I'm 
fighting  for — sanity  of  body  and  mind,  and  the  medicines 
are  toil — drudgery — responsibility.  I've  never  known 

196 


And  you  never  cared  for  any  one  else  ?  ' 


what  work  really  meant.  One  doesn't  learn  that  sort  of 
thing  in  the  crowd  I've  been  brought  up  with.  It's  only 
the  money  a  fellow  makes  himself  that  does  him  any  good. 
I've  seen  other  fellows  raised  as  I  was — losing  their  hold 
on  life — slipping  into  the  quagmire.  I  always  thought  I 
could  pull  up  when  I  liked — when  I  got  ready.  But  when 
I  tried— I  found  I  couldn't." 

He  paused  and  Jane  pressed  his  hand  in  both  of  hers. 
But  he  went  on  decisively,  "  Desperate  illnesses  need 
desperate  remedies,  Jane.  I  learned  that — up  there  with 
you.  I've  been  ill,  but  I've  found  the  cure  and  I'm  taking 
it  already.  Downtown  I've  cut  myself  off  from  all  financial 
support.  I  shan't  have  a  dollar  that  I  cannot  make.  I'm 
driven  to  the  wall — and  I'm  going  to  fight." 

He  paused  and  then  turned  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 
"  That's  why  it  is  that  I  want  you  to  come  to  me  empty- 
handed.  I  want  to  remember  every  hour  of  the  day  that 
on  my  efforts  alone  your  happiness  depends — your  peace 
of  mind,  your  future." 

"  Yes,  I  understand — but  it  might  be  made  easier " 

"  There  isn't  any  easy  way.  And,  whatever  my  other 
sins,  I  wouldn't  climb  to  fortune  on  a  woman's  shoulders. 
I've  nothing  to  offer  you  but  my  love " 

"It's   enough." 

"  No,  I  came  into  your  life  a  pauper — a  derelict — an 
idler — a  dr " 

"  Don't,  Phil,"  she  whispered,  her  fingers  on  his  lips. 

"  I  shall  come  to  you  sane  and  whole  or  I  shall  not 
come  to  you.  I  ask  nothing  of  you.  You  must  make  me 
no  promises." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  prevent  that,"  she  smiled. 
"  I  shall  make  them  anyway." 

"  No,  you're  not  promised  to  me." 

"  I  am." 

"  No." 

197 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  prevent  my  promising.  Ij 
promise  to  love,  honor  and  obey " 

"  Then  obey  at  once  and  stop  promising." 

"  I  won't—  — " 

"  Then  what  validity  has  a  promise,  broken  the 
moment  it's  made  ?  "  His  logic  was  inevitable. 

"  Cherish,  then,"  she  evaded. 

He  held  her  away  from  him,  looked  into  her  eyes  and 
laughed.  "  If  it  establishes  no  precedent — er — you  may 
cherish  me  at  once." 

"  What  does  cherish  mean  ?  " 

He  showed  her. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  precedent  is  already  established, 
Phil,"  she  sighed.  She  sank  back  in  his  arms  and  he 
kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  I  can't  stop  seeing  you,  Jane,"  he  whispered  at  her 
ear.  "  You  renew  me,  give  me  new  faith  in  myself,  new 
hope  for  the  future.  I  know  that  I  oughtn't  to  have  the 
right,  but  I  can't  give  you  up.  I  need  you.  When  I'm 
with  you,  I  wonder  how  there  could  ever  be  any  sin  in  the 
world.  Your  eyes  are  so  clear,  dear,  like  the  pool — our 
pool  in  the  woods  and  my  image  in  them  is  as  clear  as  thejr 
are.  Whatever  I've  said  I  don't  want  that  image  to  go 
out  of  them.  Keep  it  there,  Jane,  no  matter  what  happens, 
and  believe  in  me." 

"  I  will,"  she  whispered,  "  whatever  happens." 

"  I'll  come  for  you  some  day,  dear, — soon  perhaps. 
I'm  working  on  a  big  case,  one  that  involves  large  issues. 
All  of  me  that  isn't  yours,  I'm  giving  to  that — and  that's 
yours,  too." 

"  You'll  win,  Phil." 

"  Yes,  I'll  win.     I  must  win,"  he  finished.     "  I  must ." 

"  Oh,  Phil,  dear,"  she  murmured.  "  It  doesn't  matter^ 
What  should  I  care  whether  you  win  or  lose?  Whatever. 

198 


you  have  been,  whatever  you  are  or  hope  to  be,  you've 
kissed  me  and  I'm  yours — until  the  end.  What  does  it 
matter  what  I  promise — or  what  I  fail  to  promise?  I'll 
wait  for  you  because  you  wish  it,  but  I  would  tell  the 
world  to-morrow  if  you'd  let  me." 

"  No,"  he  said  quickly.  "  Not  yet.  I  want  to  look 
my  Enemy  in  the  eyes,  Jane,  for — for  a  long  while.  I'll 
stare  him  down  until  he  slinks  away — not  into  the  shadows 
behind  me — but  away — far  off — so  far  that  he  shall  not 
find  me  again — or  I  him — ever." 

"  Is  the  Enemy  here — now?  "  she  questioned  anxiously. 

"  No,"  he  smiled.  "  Not  here.  I  drove  away  from 
him  in  an  enchanted  brougham." 

Jane  straightened  and  looked  into  the  fire. 

«  Phil." 

"  Yes." 

"  I've  told  Nellie  Pennington  and — and  mother." 

He  folded  his  arms  and  gazed  steadily  into  the  fire. 

"What  did  they  say?" 

"  Nellie  Pennington  was  pleased ;  mother  was  not," 
she  said  frankly. 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  that.  But  I  could  hardly  have 
expected " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  went  on  hastily.  "  I  thought 
you  ought  to  know." 

"  I  shall  see  Mr.  Loring,"  he  said,  his  brows  tangling. 

"  Is  it  necessary — at  once?  " 

"  I  think  so.  There  mustn't  be  any  false  positions. 
I  hope  I  can  make  him  understand.  Obviously  I  can't 
visit  the  house  of  a  man  who  doesn't  want  me  there." 

Jane  couldn't  reply  at  once.  And  when  she  did  her 
face  was  as  serious  as  his  own. 

"  Won't  you  leave  that  to  me,  Phil?  "  she  said  gently. 

199 


XVII 

"THE    POT   AND    KETTLE" 

THE  "  Pot  and  Kettle "  was  up  in  the  hills  near 
Tuxedo,  within  motoring  distance  of  the  city  and 
near  enough  to  a  station  to  be  convenient  to  those 
who  were  forced  to  depend  upon  the  railroad.  It  was  a 
gabled  farmhouse  of  an  early  period  converted  by  the 
young  men  of  Colonel  Broadhurst's  generation  into  its 
latter-day  uses  as  a  club  for  dilettante  cooks,  where  the 
elect  might  come  in  small  parties  on  snowy  winter  nights, 
or  balmy  summer  ones,  and  concoct  with  their  own  hands 
the  glasses  and  dishes  most  to  their  liking.  Its  member- 
ship was  limited  and  its  fellows  clannish.  Most  of  the 
younger  members  of  the  Club  had  been  proposed  on  the 
day  of  their  birth,  and  accession  at  the  age  of  twenty-one 
to  its  rights  and  privileges  had  always  been  the  signal  for 
a  celebration  with  an  intent  both  gastronomic  and  bibulous. 
On  club  nights  every  one  contributed  his  share  to  the 
evening's  entertainment,  and  the  right  to  mix  cocktails, 
make  the  salad  dressing,  or  grill  the  bird  was  transmitted 
by  solemn  act  in  writing  from  those  of  the  older  genera- 
tion to  those  of  the  new,  who  could  not  be  dispossessed 
of  their  respective  offices  without  a  proper  delegation  of 
authority  or  the  unanimous  vote  of  those  present. 

A  member  of  the  "  Pot  and  Kettle  "  had  the  privilege 
of  giving  private  entertainments  to  a  select  few,  provided 
due  notice  was  given  in  advance,  and  upon  that  occasion 
the  Club  was  his  own  and  all  other  members  were  warned 
to  keep  off  the  premises.  This  gave  the  "  Pot  and  Kettle  " 

200 


"THE   POT   AND    KETTLE" 

affairs  a  privacy  like  that  which  the  member  enjoyed  in 
his  own  home,  for  it  was  the  unwritten  law  of  the  Club 
that  whatever  passed  within  its  doors  was  not  to  be 
spoken  of  elsewhere. 

Egerton  Savage  had  long  ago  discovered  that  no  prep- 
aration was  necessary  to  make  entertainments  successful 
at  the  "  Pot  and  Kettle."  The  number  of  a  party  given, 
to  the  steward  and  his  wife,  all  a  host  had  to  do  was  to 
put  on  his  white  apron  and  await  the  arrival  of  his  guests^ 
But  to  give  an  added  zest  to  this  occasion  the  fortunate 
ones  had  been  advised  that  the  party  was  "  for  children 
only." 

And  as  children  they  came.  Ogden  Spencer,  Larry 
Kane  and  Coley  Van  Duyn  in  a  motor  direct  from  the 
Cosmos  Club  arrived  first  and  hurried  upstairs  with  their 
packages  from  the  costumers  to  dress ;  the  Perrines  and 
Betty  Tremaine  followed;  then  Mrs.  Pennington,  the 
chaperon,  and  a  limousine  full  of  debutantes  ;  Jane  Loring 
with  Honora  Ledyard  and  Bibby  Worthington;  and 
Dirwell  De  Lancey  with  Clifford  Benson,  and  Freddy 
Sackett.  Nina  Jaffray  had  driven  out  alone.  Most  of 
the  girls  had  dressed  at  home  and  arrived  ready  for  the 
fray,  and  after  a  few  finishing  touches  in  the  ladies'  dress- 
ing-room upstairs  were  ready  to  greet  their  host,  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  Egerton  Savage,  his  thin  legs  emerg- 
ing from  velvet  knee  breeches,  as  Little  Boy  Blue,  met 
Little  Miss  Muffett,  Old  King  Cole,  Old  Mother  Hubbard, 
Peter  Piper,  Margery  Daw,  Bobby  Shafto,  Jack  Spratt, 
Solomon  Grundy,  and  all  of  the  rest  of  the  nursery  crew. 
Nellie  Pennington's  debutantes  scattered  about  the  build- 
ing like  a  pack  of  inquisitive  terriers,  investigating  every 
nook  and  cranny,  peering  into  cupboards  and  closets  and 
punctuating  the  clatter  of  arrival  with  pleasant  little 
yelps  of  delight. 

201 


As  they  all  assembled  at  last  in  the  kitchen,  large 
white  aprons,  which  covered  their  costumes  from  neck  to 
foot,  were  handed  out  and  the  real  business  of  the  evening 
was  begun.  Egerton  Savage,  chief-cook  and  arbiter,  with 
a  shrewd  knowledge  of  the  capabilities  of  debutantes, 
handed  each  of  the  young  ladies  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a 
long  toasting  fork,  their  mission  being  to  provide  the 
toast,  as  well  as  the  toasts  of  the  night ;  and  presently  an 
odor  of  scorching  bread  pervaded  the  place. 

Jane  rebelled. 

"  I  simply  won't  be  subjected  to  such  an  indignity, 
Mr.  Savage,"  she  laughed.  "  I  can  cook — really  I  can." 

He  eyed  her  askant  and  laughed. 

v  "  You  must  be  Mistress  Mary,  Quite  Contrary,  aren't 
you?" 

"  I  am,  and  I  won't  cook  toast." 

At  last  he  commissioned  her  to  poach  the  eggs. 

Larry  Kane,  a  club  member,  as  the  Infant  Bacchus,  in 
fleshlings  and  cheesecloth  with  a  garland  of  grape-leaves 
on  his  head,  had  already  begun  the  concoction  known  as 
the  "  Pot  and  Kettle  punch,"  an  amber-colored  fluid  with 
a  fragrant  odor  of  spices,  and  a  taste  that  was  mildness 
itself,  but  in  which  there  lurked  the  potent  spell  of  the 
wassail  of  many  lands.  It  was  against  this  punch  that 
Nellie  Pennington  had  taken  pains  on  the  way  out  in  the 
machine,  to  warn  her  small  brood;  and  some  of  those 
young  ladies  who  had  already  retired  from  the  fire,  stood 
beside  the  mixer  of  ingredients,  sniffing  at  the  uncorked 
bottles,  making  pretty  faces  and  lisping  in  childish  dis- 
approval. 

Coleman  Van  Duyn,  as  Little  Jack  Homer,  his  scarlet 
face  rising  like  a  winter  sunset  from  his  white  apron, 
was  superintending  the  broiling  of  the  lobsters;  Dirwell 
De  Lancey,  who  proclaimed  himself  Simple  Simon,  was 

202 


carving  cold  turkey,  Freddy  Sackett  was  making  the 
salad-dressing;  while  Betty  Tremaine,  a  very  comely  Z?o- 
Peep,  was  drying  the  lettuce  leaves  and  crushing  them  to 
the  proper  consistency  between  her  slender  pink  fingers; 
Yates  Rowland  stewed  the  terrapin;  Percy  Endicott 
made  the  coffee;  and  Sam  Purviance,  with  Nina  Jaffray's 
help,  made  the  cocktails. 

The  festivities  of  supper  were  well  under  way  before 
Phil  Gallatin  arrived.  It  had  been  late  before  he  could 
leave  the  office,  and  so  he  had  been  obliged  to  come  out  by 
train.  After  getting  into  costume  he  sought  the  room 
eagerly  for  Jane  and  their  eyes  met  in  wireless  telegraphy 
across  the  table.  The  chairs  beside  her  were  occupied  by 
Worthington  and  Van  Duyn,  so  he  dropped  into  a  chair 
Savage  offered  him  between  Mrs.  Pennington  and  Miss 
Tremaine.  His  host  thrust  a  cocktail  in  front  of  him 
on  the  table,  and  Phil  thanked  him  over  his  shoulder,  but 
when  Savage  had  gone,  he  pushed  it  away.  Nellie  Pen- 
nington realized  that  he  looked  a  little  tired  and  serious, 
but  made  no  comment.  Gallatin  had  been  working  hard 
all  day  and  until  the  present  moment  had  forgotten  that 
he  had  had  no  lunch.  Food  revived  him  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  could  enter  into  the  gay  spirit  of  the  com" 
pany.  They  were  children,  indeed.  The  cooking  finished, 
their  white  aprons  had  been  discarded  and  loud  was  the 
joy  at  the  appearance  of  the  men  and  eager  the  compli- 
ments for  the  ladies.  The  babel  of  baby  rattles  and  tin 
whistles,  discontinued  for  a  time,  arose  again  and  the 
table  rang  from  end  to  end  with  joke  and  laughter. 
Bibby  Worthington's  wig  of  Bobby  Shafto  got  askew 
and  at  an  unfortunate  moment  was  jostled  off  into  the 
salad-bowl,  upon  which  his  bald  head  received  baptism  in 
fizz  at  the  hands  of  the  Infant  Bacchus.  Freddy  Perrine, 
who  had  had  more  than  his  share  of  punch,  was  shooting 

203 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


butter-balls  from  the  prongs  of  a  fork  at  Kent  Beylard's 
white  shirt-front,  for  Beylard  hadn't  had  time  to  go  to 
the  costumer.  Dirwell  De  Lancey  insisted  upon  singing 
"  The  Low-Backed  Car,"  but  was  prevented  from  doing 
so  by  the  vehemence  of  his  chorus  which  advised  him  to 
get  a  limousine.  Sam  Purviance  began  telling  a  story 
which  seemed  to  be  leading  toward  Montmartre  when 
Nellie  Pennington  rose  from  the  table,  and  followed  by 
her  buds,  adjourned  to  another  room.  Here  the  sound 
of  a  piano  was  immediately  heard  and  the  tireless  feet  of 
the  younger  set  took  up  the  Turkey  Trot  where  they  had 
left  off  at  three  o'clock  the  night  before. 

No  word  had  passed  between  Phil  Gallatin  and  Jane, 
and  he  had  just  gotten  to  his  feet  in  pursuit  of  her  when 
Nina  Jaffray  stood  in  his  way. 

"  Hello,  Phil,"  she  said.  "  I've  been  wanting  to  see 
you." 

"  Me?  I'm  glad  of  that,  Nina.  You're  certainly  a 
corker  in  that  get-up.  What  are  you?  " 

"  I'm  Jill.    Won't  you  help  me  fetch  a  pail  of  water?  " 

"  And  have  my  crown  broken?  No,  thanks.  Besides 
I  couldn't.  It  wouldn't  be  in  the  part.  You  see  I'm 

'  Tommy  Trot,  the  man  of  law, 
Who  sold  his  bed  to  lay  on  straw. '  ' 

"Are  you?  It  isn't  true,  is  it,  Phil?  I  heard  you 
were  going  out  of  the  firm." 

"  Oh,  no.  I've  been  working,  Nina.  Sounds  queer, 
doesn't  it?  Fact,  though." 

''  There's  something  I  want  to  see  you  about,  Phil. 
I've  been  on  the  point  of  looking  you  up  at  the  office." 

"You!  What  is  it?"  he  laughed.  "Breach  of 
promise  or  alienation  of  the  affections  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  slowly.  "  Seriously — there's  something  I 
204 


"THE   POT   AND   KETTLE" 

want  to  say  to  you."  Gallatin  looked  at  her  and  she  met 
his  eye  fairly.  "  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you  here — now — if 
you  don't  mind." 

"  Oh — er — of  course.  But  if  it's  anything  of  a  seri- 
ous nature — perhaps 

"  I  can  speak  here — will  you  follow  me  ?  " 

Gallatin  glanced  over  his  shoulder  in  the  direction  of 
the  room  into  which  Jane  had  disappeared,  but  there  was 
nothing  left  hut  to  follow,  so  he  helped  the  girl  find  a 
quiet  spot  on  the  back  stairway  where  Nina  settled  her- 
self and  motioned  to  him  to  a  place  at  her  feet.  Gallatin 
sat  trying  to  conceal  his  impatience  in  the  smoke  of  a 
cigarette,  and  wondering  how  soon  Nina  would  let  him  go 
to  Jane. 

"  Phil,  you  and  I  have  known  each  other  a  good  many 
years.  We've  always  got  along  pretty  well,  haven't  we?  " 

"  Of  course,"  he  nodded. 

"  You've  never  cared  much  for  girls  and  I've  never 
thought  much  about  men — sentimentally  I  mean — but  we 
always  understood  each  other  and — well — we're  pretty 
good  friends,  aren't  we?  " 

"  I'd  be  very  sorry  if  I  thought  anything  else,"  he 
said  politely. 

She  paused  and  examined  his  profile  steadily. 

"  You  know,  Phil,  I'm  interested  in  you.  I  think  I've 
always  been  interested — but  I  never  told  you  so  because — 
because  it  seemed  unnecessary.  I  thought  if  you  ever 
needed  my  friendship  you'd  come  and  ask  me  for  it." 

"  I  would — I  mean,  I  do,"  he  stammered. 

"  Something  has  been  bothering  me,"  she  went  on 
slowly.  "  The  other  morning  at  Nellie  Pennington's,  Jane 
Loring  told  us  the  truth  about  the  Drj^ad  story." 

"  Yes." 

"  And,  of  course,  even  though  friendship  doesn't  give 
205 


me  the  privilege  of  your  confidence  unless  you  offer  it 
voluntarily,  I  thought  you  might  be  willing  to  tell  me 
something " 

"  What,  Nina?  " 

"  You're  not  in  love  with — you're  not  going  to  marry 
Jane  Loring,  are  you  ?  " 

Gallatin   smiled. 

"  I'm  hardly  the  sort  of  person  any  girl  could  afford 
to  marry,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  Does  Jane  Loring  think  so?  "  she  persisted. 

"  She  has  every  reason  to  think  so,"  he  muttered. 

"  You're  not  engaged?  "  she  protested  quickly. 

"  No,"  he  said  promptly. 

She  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Oh— that's  all  I  wanted  to  know." 

Something  unfamiliar  in  the  tones  of  her  voice  caused 
him  to  look  at  his  companion. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  know  for,  Nina  ?  "  he  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Because  if  you  were  engaged — if  you  really  were  in 
love  with  Jane,  I  wouldn't  care — I  wouldn't  have  the 
right  to  speak  to  you  in  confidence."  She  hesitated,  look- 
ing straight  at  the  bare  wall  before  her,  but  she  smiled 
her  devil-may-care  smile  and  went  on  with  a  touch  of  her 
old  manner.  "  I  doubt  if  you  really  know  me  very  well 
after  all.  I  don't  think  anybody  does.  I've  got  a  name 
for  playing  the  game  wide  open  and  riding  roughshod 
over  all  the  dearest  conventions  of  the  dodos.  But  I'm 
straight  as  a  string,  Phil,  and  there  isn't  a  man  or  woman 
in  the  Cedarcroft  or  out  that  can  deny  it." 

Gallatin  smiled. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  healthy  for  anybody  to  deny  it." 

"  I  don't  care  much  whether  they  deny  it  or  not. 
People  who  don't  like  my  creed  are  welcome  to  their  own. 

206 


"  THE   POT   AND    KETTLE" 

I  won't  bother  them  and  they  needn't  bother  me.  But  I 
do  care  for  my  friends — and  I'm  true.  You  know  that, 
don't  you?" 

"Of  course." 

"  And  I'm  not  all  hoyden,  Phil." 

"  Who  said  you  were  ?  " 

"  Nobody — but  people  think  it." 

"  I  don't." 

"  I  was  hoping  you'd  say  that.  Inside  of  me  I  think 
I'm  quite  womanly  at  times " 

He  smiled  and  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  But  I'm  tired  of  riding  through  life  on  a  loose 
snaffle.  I  want  to  settle  down  and  have  a  place  of  my 
own  and — and  all  that." 

"  I  hadn't  an  idea.  Is  that  what  you  wanted  to  tell 
me?  Who  is  it,  Nina?" 

"  I'm  not  in  love,  you  know,  Phil,"  she  went  on. 
"  I've  watched  the  married  couples  in  our  set — those  who 
made  love  matches — or  thought  they  did,  those  who  mar- 
ried for  money  or  convenience,  and  those  who — well — who 
just  married.  There's  not  a  great  deal  of  difference  in  the 
result.  One  kind  of  marriage  is  just  about  as  successful 
or  as  unsuccessful  as  another.  It's  time  I  married  and 
I've  tried  to  think  the  thing  out  in  my  own  way.  I've 
about  decided  that  the  successful  marriage  is  entirely  a 
matter  of  good  management — a  thing  to  be  carefully 
planned  from  the  very  beginning." 

Gallatin  listened  with  dull  ears.  The  girl  beside  him 
was  talking  heresies.  Happiness  wasn't  to  be  built  on 
such  a  scientific  formula.  Love  was  born  in  Arcadia.  He 
knew.  And  Jane 

"  You  know,  Phil,"  he  heard  Nina  Jaffray  saying 
again,  "  I'm  in  the  habit  of  speaking  plainly,  you  may 
net  like  my  frankness,  but  you  can  be  pretty  sure  that 

207 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


I  mean  what  I  say.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  marry  and 
I  wanted  you  to  know  about  it  so  that  you  could  think 
it  over." 

"  Me !  Nina ! "  Gallatin  started  forward  suddenly 
aware  of  the  personal  note  in  her  remarks.  "  You  don't 
mean  that  I " 

"  I  thought  that  you  might  like  to  marry  me,"  she 
repeated  coolly. 

"  You  can't  mean  it,"  he  gasped.  "  That  you — that 
j » 

"  I  mean  nothing  else.     I'd  like  to  marry  you,  Phil." 

Gallatin  laughed. 

"  Really,  Nina,  I  was  almost  on  the  point  of  taking  you 
seriously.  You  and  I — married!  Wouldn't  we  have  a 
lark,  though?  " 

"  I'm  quite  serious,"  she  insisted.  "  I'd  like  to  marry 
you,  if  you  haven't  any  other  plans." 

"  Plans  !  "  He  searched  her  eyes  again.  "  Why, 
Nina,  you  silly  child,  you've  never  even — even  flirted  with 
me,  at  least,  not  for  years." 

"  That's  true.  I  couldn't  somehow.  I  couldn't  flirt 
with  anybody  I  cared  for." 

"  Then  you  do — care  for — me?  "  he  muttered  in  be- 
wilderment. 

"  Don't  mistake  me,  Phil,"  she  put  in.  "I  care  for 
you,  yes,  but  I'm  not  in  the  least  sentimental.  I  abhor 
sentimentality.  You're  simply  the  nearest  approach  I 
have  found  to  my  idea  of  masculine  completeness.  You're 
not  an  ideal  person  by  any  means.  Your  vices  are  quite 
brutal,  but  they  don't  terrify  me — and  you're  pretty 
well  endowed  with  compensating  virtues.  It's  about  time 
you  gathered  in  your  loose  reins  and  took  to  the  turnpike. 
I'd  like  to  help  you  and  I  think  I  could." 


"THE   POT   AND   KETTLE" 

"  I — I  haven't  any  doubt  of  it,"  he  stammered. 
"  Only " 

"What?" 

"  I'm  not  a  marrying  man,  that's  all,"  he  blundered 
on,  still  struggling  with  incomprehension. 

She  remained  silent  a  moment. 

"  You  say  that,  because  you  believe  you  oughtn't  to 
marry,  don't  you,  Phil  ?  " 

"  I  say  it  because  I'm  not  going  to  marry — until  I 
know  just  where  I  stand — just  what  I'm  worth  in  a  long 
game.  Single,  I  haven't  hurt  anybody  but  myself,  but 
I'm  not  going  to  let  any  woman 

He  stopped  suddenly.  And  then  with  an  abrupt 
gesture  rose. 

"  I  can't  talk  of  this,  Nina,"  he  said  quickly.  "  You 
must  see  it's — it's  impossible.  You're  not  in  love  with 
me — or  likely  to  be : 

"  Oh,  I'm  in  no  hurry.  I  might  learn,"  she  said 
calmly. 

There  was  no  refuge  from  her  quiet  insistence  but  in 
laughter,  and  so,  brutally,  he  took  it. 

"  Really,  Nina,  if  I  hadn't  known  you  all  my  life,  I 
could  almost  believe  you  serious." 

*'  Don't  laugh !    I  am,"  she  said  immovably. 

And  now  that  it  seemed  to  Gallatin  there  remained  no 
doubt  that  she  meant  it,  he  sat  down  again  beside  her 
and  took  her  hand  in  his,  his  face  set  in  serious  lines.  He 
liked  Nina,  but  like  many  other  persons  had  always 
weighed  her  lightly.  Even  now  he  felt  sure  that,  by  to- 
morrow, she  would  probably  have  forgotten  the  entire 
conversation.  But  the  situation  was  one  that  required  a 
complete  understanding. 

"  If  I  can  believe  you,  you've  succeeded  in  flattering 
209 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


me  a  great  deal,  I've  always  been  used  to  expect  amazing 
things  of  you,  but  I  can't  say  I'm  quite  prepared  for  the 
extraordinary  point  of  view  on  married  life  which  you 
ask  me  to  share.  I've  always  had  another  idea  of  mar- 
riage, the  same  one  that  you  have  deep  down  in  your 
heart,  for  without  it  you  wouldn't  be  a  woman.  You'll 
marry  the  man  you  love  and  no  other." 

"  And  if  the  man  I  love  won't  marry  me?  " 

"  It  will  be  time  to  settle  that  when  you  meet  him." 

"  I've  already  met  him." 

Gallatin  searched  her  eyes  for  the  truth  and  was 
again  surprised  when  he  found  it  in  them.  Her  gaze 
fell  before  his  and  she  turned  her  head  awa}r,  as  though 
the  look  he  had  seen  in  her  eyes  had  shamed  her. 

"  It  isn't  true,  Nina.    It  can't  be " 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured.  "  It's  quite  true.  I  think  I've 
pitied  you  a  little,  but  I'm  ouite  sure  that  I — I've  cared 
for  you  always." 

There  was  a  silence  and  then  she  heard, 

"  God  knows,  I'm  sorry." 

There  was  a  note  of  finality  in  his  tone  which  affected 
her  strangely.  It  was  not  until  then  that  she  guessed  the 
truth. 

"You — you  care  for  Jane  Loring?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  almost  inaudibly.    "  I  do." 

He  owed  her  that  frankness. 

"  Thanks,"  she  said  quietly.  "  It's  strange  I  shouldn't 
have  guessed.  I — I  didn't  think  you  cared  for  any  one. 
You  never  have,  you  know.  And  it  never  entered  my  head 
that  you  could  be  really  interested  in — in  a  girl  like  Jane. 
Even  when  I  learned  that  you  had  been  together  in  the 
woods,  I  couldn't  believe — I  don't  think  I  quite  believe  it 
yet.  She's  hardly  your  style " 

She  stopped  and  he  remained  silent,  his  head  averted. 
210 


"THE   POT   AND   KETTLE" 

"  Funny,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  went  on.  "  Larry  Kane  wants 
to  marry  me,  I  want  to  marry  you,  and  you  want  to  marry 
Jane.  Now  if  Jane  would  only  fall  in  love  with  Larry !  " 

She  laughed  and  drew  away  from  him,  for  over  his 
head  she  saw  the  figures  of  Jane  Loring  and  Coleman  Van 
Duyn  who  had  just  entered  the  kitchen.  Jane  had  glanced 
just  once  in  their  direction  and  then  had  turned  aside. 
Nina  glanced  at  Phil.  He  was  unconscious  of  the  presence 
of  the  others — it  almost  seemed,  unconscious  of  herself. 

All  the  mischief  in  her  bubbled  suddenly  to  the  surface. 
tTane  Loring  at  least  should  see 

"  I'm  sorry,  Phil,"  she  murmured.  "  I  think  I'll  sur- 
vive. We  can  still  be  friends.  I  want  one  favor  of  you, 
though." 

He  questioned. 

"  Kiss  me,  will  you,  Phil?  "  she  whispered. 

And  Gallatin  did;  to  turn  in  a  moment  and  see  Jane 
Loring's  skirts  go  fluttering  past  the  dining-room  door, 
through  which,  grinning  broadly  over  his  shoulder,  Cole- 
man  Van  Duyn  quickly  followed  her. 


211 


XVIII 

THE    ENEMY    AND   A   FRIEND 

IT   was    a   moment   before   Gallatin    realized   the    full* 
significance  of  the  incident,  but  when  he  turned  to 
look  at  Nina,  he  found  her  leaning  against  the  wall 
convulsed  with  silent  laughter. 

"  You  knew,  Nina  ?  "  he  said  struggling  for  his  self-" 
control.  "You  saw  them — there?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  saw  them,"  she  replied  easily.  "  I  couldn't 
help  it  very  well." 

"  You  asked  me  to — to  kiss  you !"  he  stammered,  his 
color  rising. 

"  Yes,  I  did.  You  never  had  kissed  me  before,  you 
know,  Phil." 

"  You — you  wanted  her  to  see,"  he  asserted. 

"  I  didn't  mind  her  seeing — if  that's  what  you  mean." 

"  You  had  no  right 

She  held  up  her  hand  with  a  mock  gesture  of  command. 

"  Don't  speak !  You'll  say  something  you'll  regret. 
It's  not  often  I  ask  a  man  to  kiss  me,  and  when  I  do  I 
expect  a  display  of  softer  emotions.  But  anger — dismay ! 
I'm  surprised  at  you.  You're  really  quite  too  rustic,  or 
is  it  rusty?  Besides,  you  know,  I've  done  you  the  greatest 
of  favors." 

"  Favors !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Precisely.  In  addition  to  accepting  your — er —  fra- 
ternal benediction,  I've  succeeded  in  creating  a  diversion 
in  the  ranks  of  the  dear  enemy.  Jealousy  is  the  vinegar 
of  the  salad  of  love,  Phil.  Jane  is  quite  sure  to  love 
you  madly  now." 


"  Come,"  he  said  briefly,  "  let's  get  out  of  this." 

"  You  mustn't  use  that  tone  to  me.  It's  extremely 
annoying." 

"  You're  mischievous,"  he  growled. 

"Am  I?"  with  derisive  sweetness.  "I  hadn't  meant 
to  be.  Perhaps  my  infatuation  has  blinded  me.  I'm  really 
very  badly  in  love  with  you,  Phil.  And  you  must  see  that 
it's  extremely  unpleasant  for  me  to  discover  that  you're  in 
love  with  somebody  else.  You  know  I  can't  yield  placidly. 
I'm  not  the  placid  kind.  I  may  be  in  advance  of  my 
generation,  but  I'm  sure  if  I  had  my  way  I'd  abduct  you 
to-night  in  the  motor  and  fly  to  Hoboken." 

Gallatin  laughed.  He  couldn't  help  it.  She  was  too 
absurd.  And  her  mocking  effrontery  made  it  difficult  for 
him  to  remember  that  a  moment  ago  he  had  thought  her 
serious. 

"  Fortunately,  I  am  capable  of  moderating  my  emo- 
tions," she  went  on.  "  My  heart  may  be  beating  wildly, 
but  behold  me  quietly  submissive  to  your  decision.  All  I 
ask  is  that  you  won't  offer  to  be  a  brother  to  me,  Phil. 
I  really  couldn't  stand  for  that." 

"  Nina,  you're  the  limit." 

"  I  know  I  am — I'm  excited.  It's  the  outward  and 
visible  expression  of  inward  and  spiritual  dissolution. 
What  would  you  advise,  Paris  green  or  a  leap  from  the 
Metropolitan  Tower?  One  exit  is  plebeian,  the  other 
squashy;  or  had  I  better  blow  out  the  gas?  Will  you 
see  that  my  headlines  are  not  too  sentimental?  Not,  *  She 
Died  for  Love  ' ;  something  like  '  Scorned — Social  Success 
Suicides  5  or  *  Her  Last  Cropper,'  are  more  in  my  line. 
Sorrowfully  alliterative,  if  you  like,  but  chastely  simple. 
Aren't  you  sorry  for  me,  Phil  ?  " 

"  Hardly.  As  the  presentment  of  disappointed  affec- 
tion you're  not  a  success.  Your  martyrdom  has  all  the 

213 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


aspects  of  a  frolic  at  my  expense.  Don't  you  think  you've 
made  a  fool  of  me  long  enough?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  I  have  made  a  fool  of  you,  haven't 
I?  I'm  sorry.  I  didn't  intend  to  until  I  found  that  you 
had  made  a  fool  of  me.  I  wanted  company." 

Her  humor  changed  as  he  turned  away  from  her  and 
she  restrained  him  with  a  hand  on  his  arm,  her  eyes  seeking 
his. 

"  You're  my  sort,  Phil,  not  hers,"  she  whispered  ear- 
nestly. "  You're  a  vagabond — a  vagrant  on  life's  high- 
way, as  I  am — a  failure,  as  I  am,  only  a  worse  one.  You've 
tried  to  stem  the  tide  against  you,  but  you  couldn't.  What 
have  you  to  do  with  Jane  Loring's  bourgeois  respectabil- 
ity? Do  you  think  you'll  be  immune  because  of  her?  Do 
you  think  that  she  can  cleanse  you  of  the  blood  of  your 
fathers  and  make  you  over  on  her  own  prim  pattern? 
You're  run  in  a  different  mold.  What  Jane  Loring  wants 
is  a  stupid  respectable  Dodo,  an  impoverished  patriarch 
with  an  exclusive  visiting  list.  Let  her  buy  one  in  the  open 
market.  The  clubs  are  full  of  them."  She  laughed  aloud. 
"  What  does  Jane  Loring  know  of  you?  What  chance 
have  you ?  " 

"  I  think  I've  heard  enough,  Nina,"  said  Gallatin.  He 
walked  to  the  dining-room  and  stood,  waiting  for  her  to 
pass  before  him.  She  paused,  shrugged  her  shoulders  care- 
lessly and,  as  she  passed  through  the  door,  she  leaned  to- 
ward him  and  whispered. 

"You'll  never  marry  her,  Phil.  Do  you  hear? 
Never ! " 

Gallatin  inclined  his  head  slightly  and  followed. 

The  dance  was  in  full  swing,  and  outside  in  the  en- 
closed veranda  a  game  of  "  Pussy  Wants  a  Corner  "  had 
come  to  an  end  because  Sam  Purviance  insisted  upon  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  reciting  tearfully  the 


THE   ENEMY   AND   A    FRIEND 

tale  of  "  Old  Mother  Hubbard  and  Her  Dog."  Then  they 
tried  charades  which  failed  because  the  actors  insisted  on 
disappearing  into  the  wings  and  couldn't  be  made  to  ap- 
pear, and  because  the  audience  found  personal  problems 
more  interesting.  A  game  of  "  Follow  My  Leader,"  led 
by  Larry  Kane  upstairs  and  down,  developed  such  amaz- 
ing feats  of  gymnastics  that  Nellie  Pennington  rebelled. 

Phil  Gallatin  followed  Jane  with  his  eyes,  but  she  re- 
fused even  to  glance  in  his  direction  and  he  was  very  un- 
happy. There  seemed  no  chance  of  getting  a  word  with 
her,  for  when  at  the  end  of  the  dance  he  approached  her, 
she  snubbed  him  very  prettily  and  went  out  with  Van 
Duyn  to  sit  among  the  palms  at  the  end  of  the  veranda. 
Gallatin  felt  very  much  like  the  fool  Nina  had  said  he 
was  and  wandered  around  from  group  to  group  joining 
half-heartedly  in  their  conversations,  his  uneasiness  ap- 
parent to  any  who  chose  to  perceive.  Several  times  Nina 
Jaffray  passed  him  smiling  wickedly,  and  once  she  stopped 
and  whispered. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  go  home  in  my  car,  Phil?  I  don't 
believe  there  will  be  room  for  you  in  Jane's." 

He  laughed  with  an  air  of  unconcern  he  was  very  far 
from  feeling. 

"  Thanks,  I'm  afraid  you'd  take  me  to  Hoboken." 

She  went  on  to  the  dance  and  Gallatin  watched  her 
until  she  disappeared.  He  was  alone  in  the  dining-room. 
Through  the  door  by  which  she  had  gone  came  the  sound 
of  the  piano  and  the  chatter  of  gay  voices.  Through  the 
other  door  he  could  see  a  jovial  group  of  his  familiars 
sitting  around  a  table  in  the  center  of  which  was  a  tall 
bottle  bearing  a  familiar  label,  his  Enemy  enthroned  as 
usual  in  this  company.  He  was  like  a  vessel  in  the  chop 
of  two  tides,  one  of  which  would  bring  him  to  a  safe  port 
and  the  other  to  sea. 

215 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


He  looked  away,  hesitated,  then  walked  hastily  to  the 
Colonial  sideboard  where  he  drew  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  and 
drank  it  quickly.  Then  he  followed  Nina  into  the  dancing- 
room. 

He  waited  impatiently  until  the  dance  was  finished,  and 
then,  when  Jane  Loring  was  left  for  a  moment  alone,  with 
more  valor  than  discretion,  went  up  to  her. 

"  Jane,"  he  whispered,  "  you've  got  to  give  me  a  mo- 
ment alone." 

She  turned  away,  but  he  stood  in  front  of  her  again. 

"  It's  all  a  mistake,  if  you'll  let  me  explain 

"  Let  me  pass,  please." 

"  No,  not  until  you  promise  to  listen  to  me — to-night. 
I'll  go  in  your  machine,  and  then " 

"  I'm  sorry.    There's  no  room  for  you,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  I  must  see  you  to-night." 

"  No — not  to-night,"  and  in  lowered  tones,  "  or  any 
other  night." 

"  Jane,  I " 

"  Let  me  pass,  please." 

The  music  began  again  and  Percy  Endicott  at  this 
moment  came  up,  claiming  her  for  a  partner.  Before 
Gallatin  could  speak  again,  Jane  was  in  Endicott's  arms, 
and  laughing  gayly,  was  sweeping  around  the  room  to 
the  measure  of  a  two-step.  Gallatin  stared  at  her  as 
though  he  had  not  been  able  to  believe  his  own  ears.  He 
waited  a  moment  and  then  slowly  walked  back  toward 
the  kitchen. 

His  appearance  in  the  doorway  was  the  signal  for  a 
shout  from  Egerton  Savage  who  held  a  glass  aloft  and 
offered  his  health.  His  health!  He  swayed  forward 
heavily.  What  did  it  matter?  His  blood  surged.  What 
would  it  matter — just  once?  Just  once! 

He  lunged  forward  into  the  chair  somebody  pushed 

216 


THE   ENEMY  AND   A    FRIEND 

toward  him,  took  up  the  glass  of  champagne  his  host 
had  poured  for  him,  drained  it,  his  eyes  closed,  and  put 
it  down  on  the  table. 

Just  once !  It  was  a  beautiful  wine — sent  out  for  the 
occasion  from  Mr.  Savage's  own  collection  in  town,  and 
it  raced  through  Gallatin's  veins  like  quicksilver,  tingling 
to  his  very  finger  ends.  He  looked  up  and  laughed. 
Something  had  bothered  him  a  moment  ago.  What  was 
it?  He  had  forgotten.  Life  was  a  riot  of  color  and  de- 
light and  here  were  his  friends — his  men  friends — who 
were  always  glad  to  see  a  fellow,  no  matter  what.  It 
was  good  to  have  that  kind  of  friends. 

Somebody  told  a  story.  Gallatin  had  not  heard  the 
beginning  of  it,  but  he  realized  that  he  was  laughing 
uproariously,  more  loudly  than  any  one  else  at  the  table. 
The  lights  swam  in  a  mist  of  tobacco  smoke  and  the 
figures  of  the  men  around  him  were  blurred.  Egerton 
Savage  had  filled  his  glass  again,  and  Gallatin  was  in 
the  very  act  of  reaching  forward  to  take  it  when  Bibby 
Worthington,  who  sat  alongside,  rose  suddenly  as  though 
to  get  a  match  from  the  holder,  and  the  sleeve  of  his 
laced  coat  somewhat  obtrusively  swept  Gallatin's  glass  off 
the  table  to  the  stone  flagging. 

"  Beg  pardon,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "  There's  many  a 
lip  'twixt  the  nip  and  the  pip.  Sorry,  Phil." 

The  crash  of  glass  had  startled  Gallatin,  who  looked 
up  into  Worthington's  face  for  a  possible  meaning  of 
the  incident,  for  it  was  the  clumsiest  accident  that  could 
befall  a  sober  man.  But  Bibby,  his  lighted  match  sus- 
pended in  mid-air,  returned  his  gaze  with  one  quite  calm 
and  unwavering.  Gallatin  understood,  and  a  dark  flush 
rose  under  his  skin.  He  was  about  to  speak  when  Bibby 
broke  in. 

"  Phil,  I'm  probably  the  most  awkward  person  in  the 
217 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


world,"  he  said  evenly.     "  The  only  thing  about  me  that's 
ever  in  the  right  place  is  my  heart.    Understand?  " 

If  Gallatin  had  thought  of  replying,  the  words  were 
unuttered,  for  he  lowered  his  head  and  only  muttered  a 
word  or  two  which  could  not  be  heard. 

Bibby  blew  the  strands  of  his  tousled  wig  from  his 
eyes  and  carefully  brushed  the  liquor  from  his  sleeve  with 
his  lace  handkerchief. 

"  Sad  thing,  that,"  he  said  gravely,  "  vintage,  too." 

"  Lucky  there's  more  of  it,"  said  Savage,  taking  up 
the  bottle.  "  Hand  me  one  of  those  glasses  on  the  side 
table  there,  Bibby." 

Worthington  turned  slowly  away,  looked  down  at  Gal- 
latin and  a  glance  passed  between  the  two  men.  As  Bibby 
moved  off  GaUatin  took  out  his  case  and  hastily  lit  a 
cigarette. 

"  Never  mind,  Bibby,"  he  found  himself  saying.  "  No, 
thanks,  Egerton,  I'm — er — on  the  wagon."  He  lit  his 
cigarette,  rose,  opened  the  door,  and  looked  out  into  the 
winter  night,  drinking  in  deep  draughts  of  the  keen  air. 
His  evil  moment  had  passed. 

"  Howling  success,  this  party,  Egerton,"  somebody 
was  saying.  "  Listen  to  those  infants  on  the  veranda." 

"Hello,"  cried  Bibby.  "It's  Bobby  Shafto,  by 
George.  I'll  have  to  go  in  and  make  my  bow.  Come 
along,  Phil.  They'll  be  calling  for  you  presently.  What 
the  devil  are  you  anyway?  " 

Phil  Gallatin  took  his  arm  and  walked  out  on  the 
terrace. 

"  I — I'm  a  d fool,  Bibby,  pretty  poorly  masked," 

he  muttered  heavily. 

"  You  are,  my  boy.  But  it  takes  a  wise  man  to  admit 
he  is  a  fool.  Glad  you  know  it.  Awfully  glad.  Not 
sore,  are  you?  " 

218 


THE   ENEMY   AND   A    FRIEND 

"No,"  said  Gallatin  slowly.     "Not  in  the  least." 

"  Nothing  like  the  crash  of  glass — to  awake  a  fellow. 
Feel  all  right?  " 

"  Yes,  I— I  think  so." 

"  I  had  a  lot  of  nerve  to  do  a  thing  like  that,  Phil, 
but  you  see " 

"  I'm  glad  you  did.     I — I  won't  forget  it,  Bibby." 

The  two  men  clasped  hands  in  the  darkness  in  a  new 
bond  of  friendship. 

They  entered  the  house  from  another  door  and  passed 
through  the  closed  veranda.  Upon  the  floor  of  the  living 
room,  in  a  large  circle  facing  the  center,  the  infants  sat, 
tailor  fashion,  singing  lustily,  and  greeted  Bobby  Shafto'? 
appearance  with  shouts  of  glee.  They  made  him  get 
into  their  midst  and  dance,  which  he  did  with  all  the  grace 
of  a  jackdaw,  while  Betty  Tremaine  played  the  accom- 
paniment on  the  piano. 

Bobby  Shafto's  gone  to  sea 
Silver  buckles  on  his  knee 
He'll  come  back  and  marry  me 
Darling  Bobby  Shafto. 

"  But  who  is  he  going  to  marry  ?  "  maliciously  chortled 
one  of  the  debutantes,  in  the  ensuing  pause. 

"  You,  my  angel,  if  you'll  have  me?  "  and  leaning  over 
he  quickly  kissed  her. 

There  was  a  laugh  at  the  girl's  expense  and  Bibby 
retired  in  triumph. 

One  by  one  the  characters  were  summoned  and  noisily 
greeted:  Old  King  Cole,  who  was  Yates  Rowland;  Old 
Mother  Hubbard^  who  was  Percy  Endicott  ("Aptly 
taken,  by  Jove!"  was  Spencer's  comment)  and  Simple 
Simon,  who  was  Dirwell  De  Lancey  (and  looked  the  part). 
But  the  hit  of  the  occasion  was  the  dance  which  followed 

219 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


between  Jill  and  the  Infant  Bacchus.  It  was  clear  that 
no  nursery  music  would  be  suitable  here.  So  Betty  Tre- 
maine's  fingers  hurried  into  the  presto  of  Anitra's  Dance 
from  the  "  Peer  Gynt "  music,  which  caught  the  require- 
ments of  the  occasion.  The  dancers  were  well-matched 
and  the  audience  upon  the  floor,  which  had  at  first  begun 
to  clap  its  hands  to  the  gay  lilt,  slowly  drew  back  to 
give  more  room,  and  then'  finding  itself  in  danger  from 
the  flying  heels  dispersed  and  looked  on  from  adjacent 
doorways.  The  dance  was  everything  and  it  was  noth- 
ing— redowa,  tarantella,  cosaque,  fandango,  and  only 
ended  when  the  dancers  and  pianist  were  exhausted. 

The  party  broke  up  amidst  wild  applause  and  led  by 
Mrs.  Pennington  the  guests  were  already  on  their  way 
to  the  dressing-rooms,  when  Nina  Jaffray,  still  breath- 
less from  her  exertions  stepped  before  Gallatin  and  whis- 
pered amusedly: 

"  It  almost  seems  as  if  you  might  go  with  me  after 
all,  doesn't  it,  Phil?  "  she  laughed.  "  It's  too  late  for  a 
train  and  all  the  machines  but  mine  are  crowded " 

"  You're  very  kind,  but  I  think  I'll  walk.  It's  only 
twenty  miles." 

"  Don't  be  disagreeable,  Phil.  Larry  Kane  wanted 
to  go  with  me,  but  I've  sent  him  along  with  Ogden  Spen- 
cer— just  because  I  wanted  to  apologize  to  you." 

"  Apology !  "  he  laughed.  "  Why  dweU  on  that?  Be- 
sides you're  a  little  too  prompt  to  be  quite  sincere." 

"  Haven't  you  any  sense  of  humor,  Phil  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  What  a  situation !  You  kiss  me  and  I  apologize  for 
it!  Laugh,  Phil,  laugh!  Mrs.  Grundy  is  shrieking  with 
idelight.  O  boy!  What  a  silly  thing  you  look!  " 

"  Good  night,  Nina." 

"  No,  au  revoir,"  she  corrected.  "  You  know,  Phil, 
220 


THE   ENEMY   AND   A    FRIEND 


you  mustn't  insult  me — not  publicly,  that  is.  You  see 
you  couldn't  force  yourself  into  somebody  else's  machine, 
when  I'm  going  home  alone  in  an  empty  one.  Besides, 
it's  all  arranged  with  Egerton." 

Gallatin  smiled  and  shrugged.  "  Oh,  of  course,"  he 
said,  "  you  seem  to  have  me  at  your  mercy." 

"  I'll  be  very  good  though,  Phil,"  she  said,  moving 
toward  the  stairway,  "  and  if  you're  afraid  of  me,  I'll  ask 
Egerton  to  be  chaperon."  She  laughed  at  him  over  her 
shoulder,  and  he  had  to  confess  that  this  Avas  the  humor 
which  suited  her  best. 

Gallatin  went  slowly  toward  his  dressing-room,  his 
lips  compressed,  his  head  bent,  a  prey  to  a  terrible  de- 
pression made  up  of  fervid  self-condemnation.  He  had 
been  on  the  very  verge  of — that  which  he  most  dreaded. 
In  his  heart,  too,  was  a  dull  resentment  at  Jane's  in- 
tolerance— an  attitude  he  was  forced  to  admit  when  he 
could  think  more  clearly  that  he  had  now  amply  justified, 
not  because  Jane  had  been  a  witness  of  the  incident  upon 
the  kitchen  stairway,  but  because  of  the  other  thing. 
Slowly  he  began  to  realize  that  to  a  woman  a  kiss  is  a 
kiss,  whether  coolly  implanted  near  the  left  ear,  as  his 
had  been,  or  upon  a  more  appropriate  spot;  and  the 
distinction  which,  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence,  had  been 
so  clear  to  his  mind,  seemed  now  to  be  less  impressive. 
Jane's  position  was  unreasonable,  but  quite  tenable,  and 
he  now  discovered  that  unless  he  threw  Nina's  confidences 
into  the  breach,  a  defense  hardly  possible  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, the  matter  would  be  difficult  to  explain.  And 
yet  the  act  had  been  so  harmless,  his  intention  so  inno- 
cent, that,  weighed  in  the  balance  with  his  love  for  Jane, 
the  incident  seemed  to  him  the  merest  triviality,  with 
reference  to  which  Jane  should  not  have  condemned  him 
unheard.  He  heard  her  laugh  as  she  went  down  the 

221 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


stairs,  and  the  carelessness  of  that  mirth  cut  him  to  the 
marrow.  What  right  had  she  to  be  gay  when  she  knew 
that  he  must  be  suffering? 

He  entered  Nina's  limousine,  very  much  sobered,  with 
a  wish  somewhere  hidden  in  his  heart  that  for  this  night 
at  least  Nina  had  been  in  Jericho.  If  the  lady  in  the 
machine  divined  his  thought  she  gave  not  the  least  sign 
of  it;  for  when  they  had  left  the  Club,  some  time  after 
the  others,  and  were  on  their  way  to  the  city,  she  care- 
lessly resumed. 

"  I  didn't  ask  Egerton  to  come,  Phil.  You're  not 
really  alarmed,  are  you?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  he  smiled.  "  In  fact,  I  was  hoping 
we'd  be  alone." 

"  Phil,  you're  improving.     Why  ?  " 

"  So  that  we  may  continue  our  interesting  conversa- 
tion at  the  point  where  we  left  off." 

"Where  did  we  leave  off?  Oh,  yes,  you  kissed  me, 
didn't  you?  Shall  we  begin  there?  " 

"  I  suppose  that's  what  you  asked  me  here  for,  isn't 
it  ?  "  he  said  brutally. 

"Oh,  Phil,  you  don't  believe— that !" 

She  deserved  this  punishment,  she  knew,  but  the  care- 
lessness of  his  tone  shocked  her  and  she  moved  away  into 
her  corner  of  the  vehicle  and  sat  rigidly  as  though  turned 
to  stone,  her  eyes  gazing  steadily  before  her  at  the  white 
circle  of  light  beyond  the  formless  back  of  the  chauffeur. 
In  the  reflected  light  Gallatin  saw  her  face  and  the  jest 
that  was  on  his  lips  was  silenced  before  the  look  he  found 
there.  And  when  she  spoke  her  voice  was  low  and  con- 
strained. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  said  that." 

"  Are  you?    You  weren't  sorry  earlier  in  the  evening." 

"  I'm  sorry  now." 


THE   ENEMY   AND   A    FRIEND 

"  It's  a  little  late  to  be  sorry." 

She  didn't  reply.  She  was  looking  out  into  the  light 
ag"ain  with  peering  eyes.  Objects  in  the  landscape 
emerged,  shadowless,  in  pale  outline,  brightened  and  dis- 
appeared. 

"  It  isn't  like  you — not  in  the  least  like  you,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  You've  rather  upset  me,  Phil." 

"  What  did  you  expect  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You've  made 
a  fool  of  me.  You've  been  flirting  with  me  abominably." 

"  And  you  repay  me " 

"  In  your  own  coin,"  he  put  in. 

"  Don't,  Phil."  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
a  moment.  "  You've  paid  me  well.  Oh,  that  you  could 
have  said  that !  I  meant  what  I  said,  Phil,  back  there. 
You've  got  to  believe  it  now — you've  shamed  me  so. 
You've  got  to  know  it — to  believe  it.  I  wasn't  flirting 
with  you.  I  was  serious  with  you  when  I  said  I — I  loved 
you.  It's  the  truth,  the  ghastly  truth,  and  you've  got 
to  believe  it,  whatever  happens.  No,  don't  touch  me.  I 
don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  that  kind  of  a  girl.  I'm  not. 
I've  never  been  kissed  before  to-night,  believe  it  or  not. 
It's  true,  and  now ' 

She  stopped  and  clutched  him  by  the  arm.  "  Tell  me 
you  believe  it,  Phil,"  she  said  almost  fiercely,  "  that  I — 
that  I'm  not  that  kind  of  a  girl." 

"  Of  course,  you've  said  so " 

"  No — not  because  I've  said  so,  but  because  you  think 
enough  of  me  to  believe  it  whether  I've  said  so  or  not." 

"  I  had  never  thought  you  that  sort  of  a  girl,"  he 
said  slowly.  "I've  known  you  to  flirt  with  other  fellows, 
but  I  didn't  think  you  really  cared  enough  about  men 
to  bother,  least  of  all  about  me.  That's  why  I  was  a 
little  surprised " 

"  I  couldn't  flirt  with  you — I  didn't  feel  that  way. 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


I  don't  know  why.  I  think  because  there  was  a  dignity 
in  our  friendship — "  she  stopped  again  with  a  sharp  sigh. 
"Oh,  what's  the  use?  I'm  not  like  other  girls — that's 
all.  I  can't  make  you  understand." 

"  I  hope  I — understand " 

"  I'm  sorry,  Phil,  about  what  happened  to-night." 

She  stopped,  leaned  back  in  her  corner  and,  with  one 
of  her  curious  transitions,  began  laughing  softly. 

"  It  was  such  a  wonderful  opportunity — and  you  were 
so  blissfully  ignorant!  Oh,  Phil,  and  you  did  look  such 
a  fool!" 

"Oh,  did  I?" 

"  I'm  sorry.  But  I'd  probably  do  it  again — if  I  might 
— to-morrow.  Jane  Loring  is  so  prim,  so  self-satis- 
fied— 

The  motor  had  been  moving  more  slowly  and  the  man 
in  front  after  testing  various  mechanisms,  brought  the 
machine  to  a  stop  and  climbed  out.  They  heard  him 
tinkering  here  and  there  and  after  a  moment  he  opened 
the  door  and  announced. 

"  Sorry,  Miss  Jaffray,  but  there's  come  a  leak  in  the 
tank,  and  we've  run  out  of  gasoline." 


XIX 

LOVE   ON   CRUTCHES 

MRS.  PENNINGTON'S  philosophy  had  taught 
her  that  it  was  better  to  be  surprised  than 
to  be  bored,  and  that  even  unpleasant  sur- 
prises were  slightly  more  desirable  than  no  surprises 
at  all.  It  was  toward  the  end  of  January  on  her 
halting  journey  homeward  from  Aiken,  one  morning 
in  Washington,  that  she  saw  in  a  local  journal  the 
announcement  of  an  engagement  between  Miss  Jane 
Loring  and  Mr.  Coleman  Van  Duyn.  To  say  that  she 
was  surprised  puts  the  matter  mildly,  and  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  flight  of  her  ennui  compensated  her  for  the 
sudden  pang  of  dismay  which  came  with  the  reading  of 
this  article.  She  had  left  New  York  the  day  after  the 
affair  at  "  The  Pot  and  Kettle,"  and  so  had  only  the 
memory  of  Jane's  confidences  and  Phil  Gallatin's  happy 
face  to  controvert  the  news. 

And  when  some  days  later  she  arrived  in  New  York, 
she  found  that,  though  unconfirmed  in  authoritative  quar- 
ters, the  rumors  still  persisted  among  her  own  friends  and 
Jane's.  Of  Phil  Gallatin  she  saw  nothing  and  learned  that 
he  was  out  of  town  on  an  important  legal  matter  and 
would  not  return  for  a  week.  When  she  called  on  the 
Lorings,  Jane  showed  a  disposition  to  avoid  personal 
topics  and  at  the  mention  of  Philip  Gallatin's  name  skill- 
fully turned  the  conversation  into  other  channels. 

To  a  woman  of  Mrs.  Pennington's  experience  the  hint 
was  enough  and  she  departed  from  the  Loring  mausoleum 
aware  that  something  serious  had  happened  which  threat- 

225 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


ened  Phil  Gallatin's  happiness.  But,  in  spite  of  the 
warmth  of  Jane's  greeting  and  the  careless  way  in  which 
she  had  discussed  the  gossip  of  the  hour,  Nellie  Penning- 
ton  was  not  deceived,  and  by  the  time  she  was  in  her  own 
brougham  had  made  one  of  those  rapid  deductions  for 
which  she  was  famous.  Jane  looked  jaded.  Therefore, 
she  was  unhappy;  therefore,  she  still  loved  Phil  Gallatin. 
Phil  Gallatin  was  working  hard.  Therefore,  Phil  was 
keeping  straight;  there  must  be  some  other  cause  for 
Jane's  defection.  What?  Obviously — a  woman.  Who? 
Nina  Jaffray. 

Having  reached  this  triumphant  conclusion,  Mrs. 
Pennington  set  about  proving  her  several  premises  with- 
out the  waste  of  a  single  moment  of  time.  To  this  end 
she  sought  out  Percy  Endicott,  who  as  she  knew  was  bet- 
ter informed  upon  most  people's  affairs  than  they  were 
themselves,  and  from  him  learned  the  truth.  Philip  Gal- 
latin had  been  discovered  with  Nina  Jaffray  in  his  arms 
on  the  kitchen  stairs  at  the  "  Pot  and  Kettle."  Percy 
Endicott's  talent  for  the  ornamentation  of  bare  narrative 
was  well  known  and  before  he  had  finished  the  story  he 
had  convinced  himself,  if  not  his  listener,  that  this  happy 
event  had  brought  to  a  culmination  a  romance  of  many 
years'  standing  and  that  Nina  and  Phil  would  soon  be 
directing  their  steps,  with  all  speed,  to  church. 

Mrs.  Pennington  laughed,  not  because  what  Percy  told 
amused  her,  but  because  this  narrative  showed  her  that 
however  much  she  was  still  lacking  in  reliable  details,  her 
earliest  deductions  had  been  correct.  She  would  not  be- 
lieve the  story  until  it  had  been  confirmed  by  "  Bibby  " 
Worthington  to  whom  Coleman  Van  Duyn  had  related  it 
as  an  eye-witness,  and  then  herself  supplied  the  grain  of 
salt  to  make  it  palatable. 

The  grain  of  salt  was  her  knowledge  of  Nina  Jaffray's 

226 


LOVE   ON   CRUTCHES 


extraordinary  personality,  which  must  account  for  any 
(differences  she  discovered  between  the  Phil  Gallatin  who 
kissed  upon  the  back  stairs  and  the  Phil  Gallatin  with 
whom  she  was  familiar.  Whatever  his  deficiencies  in 
other  respects,  he  had  never  been  considered  as  available 
timber  by  the  gay  young  married  women  of  Mrs.  Pen- 
nington's  own  set  who  had  given  him  up  in  the  susceptive 
sense  as  a  hopeless  case;  and  if  Phil  had  been  addicted 
to  the  habit  of  promiscuous  kissing,  he  had  gone  about 
the  pursuit  with  a  stealth  which  belied  the  record  of  his 
unsentimental  but  somewhat  tempestuous  history.  She 
found  herself  wondering  not  so  much  about  what  had  hap- 
pened to  Phil  as  about  how  Nina  had  managed  what  had 
happened.  Nina's  remarkable  confession  a  few  days  be- 
fore Egerton  Savage's  party  recurred  to  her  mind,  and 
Nina's  clearly  expressed  intention  to  bring  Phil  to  her 
chariot-wheel  seemed  somehow  to  have  an  intimate  bear- 
ing upon  the  present  situation.  And  yet,  even  admitting 
Nina's  direct  methods  of  seeking  results,  she  could  not 
understand  how  a  fellow  as  much  in  love  with  another 
girl  as  Phil  was  could  have  been  made  so  ready  a  victim. 
Could  it  be?  No.  There  was  no  talk  of  that.  And  if 
Phil  had  again  been  in  trouble,  Mrs.  Pennington  knew 
that  the  indefatigable  Percy  would  have  told  her  of  it. 

She  thought  about  the  matter  awhile  and  finally  gave 
it  up,  uncertain  whether  to  be  anxious  or  only  amused. 
But  as  the  week  went  by  she  was  given  tangible  evidence 
that  whatever  feelings  Jane  Loring  cherished  in  her  heart 
for  Phil  Gallatin,  the  wings  of  victory,  for  the  present 
at  least,  were  perched  upon  the  banneret  of  Mr.  Coleman 
Van  Duyn.  Jane  rode,  walked,  and  danced  with  him,  and 
within  a  few  short  weeks,  from  a  state  of  ponderous  misery 
Coleman  Van  Duyn  had  revived  and  now  bore  the  definite 
outlines  of  a  well-fed  and  happy  cupid. 

227 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


The  rumors  of  an  engagement  persisted,  and  Mrs. 
Pennington  was  not  the  only  person  forced  against  her 
judgment  or  inclination  to  believe  that  the  old  Van 
Duyn  mansion  would  once  more  have  a  mistress.  Dirwell 
De  Lancey,  whose  tenderness  in  Jane's  quarter  had  been 
remarked,  went  into  retirement  for  a  brief  period,  and 
only  emerged  when  resignation  had  conquered  surprise. 
Colonel  Crosby  Broadhurst  sat  in  his  corner  at  the 
Cosmos  and  wondered,  as  other  people  did,  what  the  devil 
Jane  Loring  could  see  in  Coley.  Bibby  Worthington 
still  hovered  amiably  in  Jane's  background  and  would  not 
be  dislodged.  He  had  proposed  in  due  form  to  Jane  and 
had  been  refused,  but  the  cheerful  determination  of  his 
bearing  and  his  taste  in  cravats  advised  all  who  chose  to 
concern  themselves  that  he  was  still  undismayed. 

After  Mrs.  Pennington,  who  thought  that  she  saw  a 
light,  perhaps  the  person  most  surprised  at  Jane's  sudden 
attachment  for  Coleman  Van  Duyn  was  Mrs.  Loring.  She 
had  listened  with  incredulity  to  Jane's  first  confession  of 
her  relations  with  Philip  Gallatin  and  had  waited  with 
resignation  a  resumption  of  the  conversation.  But  as  the 
days  passed  and  her  daughter  said  nothing,  she  thought 
it  time  to  take  the  matter  into  her  own  hands  and  told 
Jane  of  her  intention  to  speak  of  it  to  her  husband. 

"  I'll  save  you  the  trouble,  Mother,"  said  Jane,  kiss- 
ing her  gravely  on  the  forehead.  "  There  is  nothing  be- 
tween Mr.  Gallatin  and  myself." 

Mrs.  Loring  concealed  her  delight  with  difficulty. 

"  Jane,  dear,  something  has  happened." 

"  Nothing — nothing  at  all,"  said  Jane.  "  I've  changed 
my  mind — that's  all." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Loring.  This  much  imparted,  Jane 
would  say  no  more ;  the  matter  was  dropped,  and  to  Mrs. 

228 


LOVE   ON   CRUTCHES 


iLoring  it  seemed  that  in  so  far  as  Jane  was  concerned, 
Mr.  Gallatin  had  simply  ceased  to  exist. 

But  it  was  not  without  some  difficulty  that  Jane  con- 
vinced herself  that  this  was  the  case.  The  day  after  the 
"  Pot  and  Kettle  "  affair,  Phil  Gallatin  wrote,  'phoned, 
wired  and  called.  His  note  Jane  consigned  to  the  fire, 
his  telephone  was  answered  by  Hastings,  his  wire  followed 
his  note,  and  to  his  visit  she  was  out.  This,  she  thought, 
should  have  concluded  their  relations,  but  the  following 
morning  brought  another  letter — a  long  one.  She  hesi- 
tated before  deciding  whether  to  open  it  or  to  return  it, 
but  at  last  she  broke  the  seal  and  read  it  through,  her 
lips  compressed,  her  brows  tangled  angrily.  It  was  a 
plea  for  forgiveness,  and  that  was  all.  There  were  many 
regrets,  many  protestations  of  love,  but  not  one  word  of 
explanation!  He  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  call  the 
incident  a  trifle  (a  trifle,  indeed!)  and  to  call  her  to 
account  for  an  intolerance  which  he  had  the  temerity  to 
say  was  unworthy  of  the  great  love  that  he  had  given  her. 

The  impudence  of  him !  What  did  he  mean?  Was  the 
man  mad?  Or  was  this  the  New  York  idea?  She  realized 
now  that  he  was  an  animal  that  she  had  met  in  an  un- 
familiar habitat,  and  that  perhaps  the  things  to  be  ex- 
pected of  him  here  were  those  dictated  by  the  inconsider- 
able ideals  of  the  day.  It  dismayed  her  to  think  that 
after  all  here  in  New  York,  she  had  only  known  him  a 
little  more  than  a  week.  His  vision  appeared — and  was 
banished,  and  his  letter,  torn  again  and  again  into  small 
pieces  was  consigned  to  the  flames  of  her  open  fire.  She 
made  no  reply. 

Another  letter  came  on  the  morrow,  was  read  like  the 
other,  but  likewise  destroyed.  His  persistence  was  amaz- 
ing. Would  he  not  take  a  hint  and  save  her  the  un- 

229 


pleasant  duty  of  sending  his  letters  back  to  him  unopened? 
Apparently  not !  And  with  the  letters  came  baskets  of 
flowers  which,  like  those  from  Mr.  Van  Duyn,  filled  her 
room  with  pleasant  odors. 

She  was  willing  to  believe  now  that  a  word  of  ex- 
planation, a  clue  to  his  extraordinary  behavior  might 
have  paved  the  way  to  reconciliation,  and  she  found  her- 
self wondering  in  a  material  way  what  was  becoming  of 
him  and  worrying,  in  spite  of  herself,  as  to  his  future, 
of  which,  as  she  had  once  fondly  believed,  she  was  the 
guardian.  What  was  he  doing  with  himself  in  the 
evenings  ? 

This  thought  sent  the  blood  rushing  to  her  cheeks  and 
hardened  her  heart  against  him.  He  was  with  Nina  Jaf- 
fray,  of  course.  In  his  last  letter  he  had  written  that  he 
must  go  away  on  business  and  for  two  mornings  no  letter 
arrived.  She  missed  these  letters  and  was  furious  with 
herself  that  it  was  so.  But  the  energy  of  her  anger  was 
conserved  in  the  form  of  further  favors  for  Coley  Van 
Duyn  who  radiated  it  in  rapturous  good-will  toward  all 
the  world.  When  the  letters  were  resumed,  she  locked 
them  in  her  desk  unread,  determining  upon  his  return  to 
town  to  make  them  into  a  package  and  send  them  back 
in  bulk.  Many  times  she  unlocked  her  desk  and  scru- 
tinized the  envelopes,  but  it  was  always  to  thrust  them 
into  their  drawer  which  she  shut  and  locked  each  time 
with  quite  unnecessary  violence. 

Another  matter  which  caused  some  inquietude  was 
Nellie  Pennington's  return  to  town,  for  Mrs.  Pennington 
was  the  only  person,  besides  Mr.  Gallatin  and  her  mother, 
in  actual  possession  of  her  secret,  the  only  person  besides 
Mr.  Gallatin  whom  it  was  necessary  to  convince  as  to 
the  definiteness  of  her  recantation.  At  their  first  meet- 
ing Jane  had  carried  off  the  situation  with  a  carelessness 

230 


LOVE   ON   CRUTCHES 


which  she  felt  had  rather  overshot  the  mark.  Her  vis- 
itor had  accepted  the  hints  with  a  disconcerting  readiness 
and  composure,  and  Jane  had  a  feeling  after  Mrs.  Pen- 
nington  left  the  house  that  her  efforts  had  been  singu- 
larly ineffective;  for  she  was  conscious  that  her  visitor 
had  scrutinized  her  keenly  and  that  anything  she  had  said 
had  been  carefully  sifted,  weighed  and  subjected  to  that 
kind  of  cunning  alchemy  which  clever  women  use  to  trans- 
mute the  baser  metals  of  sophistry  into  gold. 

Mrs.  Pennington  had  now  taken  an  initiative  in  the 
friendship  and  refused  to  be  disconcerted.  Jane's  engage- 
ments with  Coleman  Van  Duyn  provided  no  effectual 
hindrance  to  Mrs.  Pennington's  enthusiastic  fellowship, 
and  she  frequently  helped  to  make  a  party  in  which,  to 
Mr.  Van  Duyn  at  least,  three  was  a  crowd.  Mrs.  Pen- 
nington accepted  his  presence  without  surprise,  without 
annoyance  or  other  emotion;  and  somehow  succeeded  in 
conveying  the  impression  that  she  was  conferring  a  favor, 
upon  them  both,  a  favor  for  which,  in  her  own  heart  at 
least,  Jane  was  grateful. 

It  was  not  surprising  to  Jane,  therefore,  when  one 
morning  Nellie  Pennington  called  up  on  the  'phone  and 
made  an  engagement  for  the  afternoon  at  five,  at  the 
Loring  house,  urging  a  need  of  Jane's  advice  upon  an  im- 
portant matter.  She  entered  the  library,  where  Jane  had 
been  reading,  with  a  radiance  which  did  much  to  dispel  the 
gloom  of  the  day  which  had  been  execrable;  and  when  her 
hostess  suggested  that  they  go  upstairs  to  her  own  dress- 
ing-room, where  they  might  be  undisturbed,  Nellie  Pen- 
nington threw  off  her  furs. 

"  No,  thanks,  darling,"  she  said.  "  I  can't  stay  long. 
And  you  know  when  one  reaches  my  mature  years,  each 
stair  has  a  separate  menace." 

"  There's  the  lift,"  Jane  laughed. 
231 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Oh,  never !  That  would  be  a  public  confession.  I'll 
stay  here  if  you  don't  mind,"  and  she  sank  into  an  arm- 
chair by  the  fire. 

"  Coley  isn't  coming?  "  she  inquired. 

"  No,"  said  Jane.    "  I  had  a  headache." 

Nellie  Pennington  sighed  gratefully. 

"  You  know,  Jane,  Coley  is  a  nice  fellow,  but  he's  just 
about  as  plastic  as  the  Pyramid  of  Cheops.  You've  done 
wonders  with  him,  of  course,  and  he  is  really  quite  bear-1 
able  now,  but  it  must  have  been  wearing,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  Jane  smiled.     "  He's  quite  obedient." 

"  I  sometimes  wonder  whether  men  are  worth  the  pains 
we  women  waste  on  them."  Mrs.  Pennington  went  on 
reflectively.  "  When  we  are  single  they  adore  us  for  our 
defects ;  married,  we  have  a  real  difficulty  in  making  them 
love  us  for  our  virtues.  But  love  abhors  the  word  obe- 
dience.  It  knows  no  arbitrary  laws.  An  obedient  husband 
is  like  an  egg  without  salt  and  far  more  indigestible. 
You're  not  going  to  marry  Coley,  are  you,  Jane?  "  she 
finished  abruptly. 

Jane  paled  and  her  head  tilted  the  fraction  of  an  inch. 
It  was  the  first  time  Nellie  Pennington  had  approached 
the  subject  so  directly,  and  Jane  had  not  decided  whether 
to  silence  her  questioner  at  once  or  to  laugh  her  off  when 
she  broke  in  again. 

"  Oh,  don't  reply  if  you  don't  want  to.  I'm  sure  noth- 
ing I  could  say  would  have  the  slightest  influence  on  your 
decision.  It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least  whom  one  marries 
anyway,  because  whatever  the  lover  is,  the  husband  is 
always  sure  to  be  something  quite  different.  If  Coley  is 
obedient  now,  married  he'll  be  a  Tartar." 

"  I — I  didn't  say  I  was  going  to  marry  Mr.  Van 
Duyn." 

"  You  didn't  say  you  weren't." 
232 


LOVE   ON   CRUTCHES 


"  Why  should  I  ?  Must  a  girl  marry,  because  she 
receives  the  attentions " 

"  Exclusive  attentions,"  put  in  Mrs.  Pennington  quick- 
ly. "  Jane,  you're  rather  overdoing  it,"  she  finished 
frankly. 

"  I  like  Mr.  Van  Duyn  very  much,"  said  Jane,  her 
head  lowered. 

"  But  you  don't  love  him.  Oh,  Jane,"  she  whispered 
earnestly,  "  play  the  scene  in  your  own  way  if  you  like, 
but  don't  try  to  hide  the  real  drama  from  me." 

"  There  is  no  drama,"  put  in  Jane.  "  It  was  a 
farce " 

"  It's  a  drama  in  Phil  Gallatin's  heart.  Can  you  be 
blind  to  his  struggle?  " 

"  I  care  nothing  for  Mr.  Gallatin's  struggles,"  said 
Jane,  her  head  high. 

"  You  do.  Love  like  yours  comes  only  once  in  a 
woman's  eyes.  I  saw  it " 

"  You're  mistaken." 

"  No.     And  it  isn't  quenched  with  laughter " 

"  Don't,  Nellie." 

"  I  must.  You're  trying  to  kill  something  in  you  that 
will  not  die." 

"  It's  dead  now." 

"  No — nor  even  sleeping.  Don't  you  suppose  I  read 
you,  silly  child,  your  false  gayety,  the  mockery  of  your 
smiles,  and  the  way  you've  thrown  Coley  Van  Duyn  into 
the  breach  to  soothe  your  pride — even  let  an  engagement 
be  undenied  so  that  Phil  could  think  how  little  you  cared? 
You  once  let  me  behind  the  scenes;  no  matter  how  much 
you  regret  it,  I'm  still  there." 

"  Mr.  Gallatin  is  nothing  to  me." 

Mrs.  Pennington  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  smiled. 

"  You  told  me  that  your  faith  in  Phil  was  unending. 
233 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Your    eternity,    my    dear,    lasted    precisely    one    week." 

Jane  flashed  around  at  her  passionately,  aroused  at 
last,  as  Nellie  Pennington  intended  that  she  should  be. 

"  Oh,  why  couldn't  he  have  explained  ?  " 

"Explain!  At  the  expense  of  another  girl?  Phil  is 
a  gentleman." 

Mrs.  Pennington  had  had  that  reply  ready.  She  had 
considered  it  carefully  for  some  days. 

Jane  paused,  and  her  eyes,  scarcely  credulous,  sought 
the  face  of  her  visitor.  Nellie  Pennington  met  her  look 
eagerly. 

"  Nina  Jaffray's,"  she  went  on.  "  Could  Phil  tell  why 
it  happened?  Obviously  not." 

"  But  he  kissed  her " 

Mrs.  Pennington  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders. 

"  As  to  that,  Nina,  of  course,  had  reasons  of  her 
own." 

"  Nina — Miss  Jaffray — reasons  ?  " 

"  She  probably  asked  him  to " 

"  Impossible !  " 

"  She  did." 

"Do  you  know  that?" 

"  No,  but  I  know  Nina." 

"  I  can't  see  that  that  alters  anything." 

"  But     it     does — amazingly — if    you'll     only     think 
I  about  it." 

"  I  saw  it  all." 

"Oh!    Did  you?    I'm  glad." 

"Glad!    Oh,  Nellie!" 

"  Of  course.  Think  how  much  worse  it  might  have 
seemed  if  you  hadn't." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  If  some  one  else  had  told  you,  you  might  have  be- 
lieved anything." 

234 


LOVE   ON   CRUTCHES 


"  I  saw  enough  to  believe " 

"What  did  you  see?" 

"  He — he — he  just  kissed  her." 

"  Oh,  Jane,  think !  What  did  you  see  ?  Why  should 
Phil  kiss  a  girl  he  doesn't  love?  Aren't  there  any  kisses 
in  the  world  but  lovers'  kisses  ?  Think.  You  must.  Phil's 
whole  life  and  yours  depend  upon  it." 

Jane  rose  and  walked  quickly  to  the  window. 

"  This  conversation — is  impossible." 

Nellie  Pennington  watched  her  narrowly.  She  had 
created  a  diversion  upon  the  flank,  which,  if  it  did  nothing1 
else,  had  temporarily  driven  Jane's  forces  back  in  con- 
fusion. She  looked  anxiously  toward  the  door  of  the 
drawing-room  and  then  smiled,  for  a  figure  had  entered 
and  was  coming  forward  without  hesitation. 

With  one  eye  on  Jane,  who  was  still  looking  out  of 
the  window,  Nellie  Pennington  rose  and  greeted  the  new- 
comer. 

"  Hello,  Phil.  I  had  almost  given  you  up.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you,  Jane.  I  had  to  see  Mr.  Gallatin  and  asked 
if  he  wouldn't  stop  for  me  here." 

At  the  sound  of  his  name  Jane  had  twisted  around 
and  now  faced  them,  breathless.  Mrs.  Pennington  was 
smiling  carelessly,  but  Phil  Gallatin,  hat  in  hand,  stood 
with  bowed  head  before  her.  At  the  door  into  the  hall- 
way, the  butler,  somewhat  uncertainly,  hovered. 

"  Thank  you,  Hastings,"  Jane  summoned  her  tongue 
to  say.  "  That  will  be  all." 


235 


XX 

THE    INTRUDER 

AND  when  the  man  had  gone  her  voice  came  back  to 
her  with  surprising  clearness. 
"  You  were   going,   I   think  you   said,   Nellie, 
dear.     So  sorry.     If  you'll  excuse  me  I  think  I'll  hurry 
upstairs.    I'm  dining  out  and 

"  Jane !  "  Gallatin's  voice  broke  in.  "  Don't  go.  Give 
me  a  chance — just  half  an  hour — ten  minutes.  I  won't 
take  more  than  that — and  then " 

"  I'm  sorry,  but " 

"  You  wouldn't  see  me  or  reply  to  my  letters,  and  so 
I  had  to  choose  some  other  way.  Give  me  a  moment,"  he 
pleaded.  "  You  can't  refuse  me  that." 

"  I  don't  see — how  anything  that  you  say  can  make 
the  slightest  difference — in  anything,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  she 
said  haltingly.  "  We  both  seem  to  have  been  mistaken. 
It's  very  much  better  to  avoid  a — a  discussion  which  is 
sure  to — to  be  painful  to  us  both." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  pain,"  he  whispered,  "  if  you 
can't  know  the  pain  of  absence?  Nothing  that  you  can 
say  will  hurt  more  than  that,  the  pain  of  being  ignored — 
forgotten — for  another.  I  have  stood  it  as  long  as  I  can, 
but  you  needn't  be  afraid  to  tell  me  the  truth.  If  you 
say  that  you  love — that  you're  going  to  marry  Van  Duyn, 
I'll  go — but  not  until  then." 

"  Mrs.  Pennington  is  waiting  for  you,  I  think,"  she 
gasped.  But  when  she  turned  and  looked  into  the  draw- 
ing-room Mrs.  Pennington  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

236 


THE   INTRUDER 


"  No,"  he  went  on  quickly.  "  She  has  gone.  I  asked 
her  to.  Oh,  Jane,  listen  to  me.  I  made  a  mistake — under 
the  impulse  of  a  foolish  moment.  I've  been  a  fool — but 
I'm  not  ashamed  of  my  folly.  Perhaps  it  shocks  you  to 
hear  me  say  that.  But  I'm  not  ashamed — my  conscience 
is  clear.  Do  you  think  I  could  look  you  in  the  eyes  if 
there  was  any  other  image  between  us?  Call  me  thought- 
less, if  you  like,  careless,  inconsiderate  of  conventions,  in- 
considerate even  of  you,  but  don't  insult  yourself  by 
imputing  motives  that  never  existed — that  never  could 
exist  while  you  were  in  my  thoughts.  Oh,  Jane,  can't  you 
understand?  You're  the  life — the  bone — the  breath  of 
me.  I  have  no  thought  that  does  not  come  from  you,  no 
wish — no  hope  that  you're  not  a  part  of.  What  has  Nina 
Jaffray  to  do  with  you  and  me?  If  I  kissed  her  it  was  be- 
cause— because "  He  stopped  and  could  not  go  on. 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  want  to  know,"  she  said 
coolly. 

"  I— I  can't  tell  you." 

"  No,"  she  said  dryly.  "  I  thought  not.  Miss  Jaf- 
fray has  every  reason  to  be  flattered  at  your  attitude.  I 
can  only  be  thankful  that  you  at  least  possess  the  virtue 
of  silence — that  you  really  are  man  enough  to  preserve 
the  confidence  of  the  women  of  your  acquaintance.  Other- 
wise, I  myself  might  fare  badly." 

"  Stop,  Jane !  "  he  cried,  coming  forward  and  seizing 
her  by  the  elbows.  "  It's  sacrilege.  Look  up  into  my 
eyes.  You  dare  not,  because  you  know  that  I  speak  the 
truth,  because  you  know  that  you'll  discover  in  them  a 
token  of  love  unending — the  same  look  that  you've  always 
found  there,  because  when  you  see  it  you  will  recognize 
it  as  a  force  too  great  to  conquer — too  mighty  to  be 
argued  away  for  the  sake  of  a  whim  of  your  injured  pride. 
Look  up  at  me,  Jane." 

237 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


He  had  his  arms  around  her  now;  but  she  struggled 
in  them,  her  head  still  turned  away. 

"  Let  me  go,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  she  gasped.  "  It  can 
never  be.  You  have  hurt  me — mortally." 

"  No.  I'll  never  let  you  go,  until  you  look  up  in  my 
eyes  and  tell  me  you  believe  in  me." 

"  It's  unmanly  of  you,"  she  cried,  still  struggling. 
"  Let  me  go,  please,  at  once." 

Neither  of  them  had  heard  the  opening  and  closing 
of  the  front  door,  nor  seen  the  figure  which  now  blocked 
the  doorway  into  the  hall,  but  at  the  deep  tones  which 
greeted  them,  they  straightened  and  faced  Mr.  Loring. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jane,"  he  was  saying  with  ironi- 
cal amusement.  "  I  chose  the  wrong  moment  it  seems," 
and  then  in  harsher  accents  as  Gallatin  walked  toward 
him.  "  You !  Jane,  what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

Miss  Loring  had  reached  the  end  of  the  Davenport 
where  she  stood  leaning  with  one  hand  on  its  arm,  a  little 
frightened  at  the  expression  in  her  father's  face,  but  more 
perturbed  and  shaken  by  the  fluttering  of  her  own  heart 
which  told  her  how  nearly  Phil  Gallatin  had  convinced  her 
against  her  will  that  there  was  nothing  in  all  the  world 
that  mattered  except  his  love  and  hers. 

Her  father's  sudden  appearance  had  startled  her,  too, 
for  though  no  words  had  passed  between  father  and  daugh- 
ter, she  knew  that  her  mother  had  already  repeated  the 
tale  of  her  romance  and  of  its  sudden  termination.  She 
tried  to  speak  in  reply  to  Mr.  Loring's  question,  but  no 
words  would  come  and  after  a  silence  burdened  with  mean- 
ing she  heard  Phil  Gallatin  speaking. 

"  It  means,  Mr.  Loring,"  he  was  saying  steadily,  "  that 
I  love  your  daughter — that  I  hope,  some  day,  to  ask  her  to 
be  my  wife." 

Loring  came  into  the  room,  his  eyes  contracted,  his 
238 


THE   INTRUDER 


bull   neck   thrust   forward,   his   face   suffused   with   blood. 

'*  You  want  to  marry  my  daughter?  You!  I  think 
you're  mistaken."  He  stopped  and  peered  at  one  and 
then  the  other.  "  I've  heard  something  about  you,  Mr. 
Gallatin,"  he  said  more  calmly.  "  Your  ways  seem  to  be 
crossing  mine  more  frequently  than  I  like." 

"  I  hardly  understand  you,"  said  Gallatin  clearly. 

"  I'll  try  to  make  my  meaning  plain.  We  needn't 
discuss  at  once  the  relations  between  you  and  my  daugh- 
ter. Whatever  they've  been  or  are  now,  they're  less  im- 
portant than  other  matters." 

"  Other  matters !  "  Gallatin  exclaimed.  Jane  had 
straightened  and  came  forward,  aware  of  some  new  ele- 
ment in  her  father's  antipathy.  Loring  glanced  at  her 
and  went  on. 

"  For  some  weeks  past  I've  been  aware  of  the  activity 
of  certain  interests  that  you  or  your  pettifogging  little 
firm  represent  in  regard  to  the  plans  of  the  Pequot  Coal 
Company.  I've  followed  your  movements  with  some 
curiosity  and  read  the  letters  you've  written  to  the  New 
York  office  with  not  a  little  amazement." 

"  You  have  read  them?  " 

"  Yes,  I.  /  am  the  Pequot  Coal  Company,  Mr.  Gal- 
latin." 

Gallatin  drew  back  a  step  and  glanced  at  Jane. 

"  I  was  not  aware "  he  began. 

"  No,  I  guess  not.  But  it's  about  time  you  were," 
Loring  chuckled.  He  walked  the  length  of  the  room  and 
back,  his  hands  behind  him,  passing  Jane  as  though  he 
was  unaware  of  her  existence,  his  huge  bulk  towering 
before  Gallatin  again. 

"  You  are  trying  to  stop  the  sale  of  the  Sanborn 
mines,"  he  sneered.  "  You're  meddling,  sir.  We  tested 
that  matter  in  the  courts.  The  court  records " 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Your  courts,  Mr.  Loring,"  put  in  Gallatin,  now 
thoroughly  aroused.  "  I'm  familiar  with  the  evidence  in 
the  case  you  speak  of." 

"  My  courts  !  "  Loring  roared.  "  The  Supreme  Court 
of  the  State !  We  needn't  discuss  their  decisions  here." 

"  No,  but  we  will  discuss  them — elsewhere,"  he  said 
soberly.  He  stopped  and,  with  a  quick  change  of  voice. 
"  Mr.  Loring,  you'll  pardon  me  if  I  refuse  to  speak  of  this 
further.  I'm  sorry  to  learn  that 

"  I'm  not  through  yet,"  Loring  broke  in  savagely, 
with  a  glance  at  Jane.  "  We've  known  for  some  time  that 
the  Sanborn  case  was  in  the  hands  of  Kenyon,  Hood  and 
Gallatin,  and  we've  been  at  some  pains  to  keep  ourselves 
informed  as  to  any  action  that  would  be  taken  by  your 
clients.  We  know  something  about  you,  too,  Mr.  Gallatin, 
and  we  have  followed  your  recent  investigations  with  some 
interest  and  not  a  little  amusement.  If  we  ever  had  any 
fear  of  a  possible  perversion  of  justice  in  this  case, 
through  your  efforts,  I  may  say  that  it  has  been  entirely 
removed  by  our  knowledge  of  your  methods  and  of  the 
personal  facts  of  your  career." 

"  Father ! "  Jane's  fingers  were  on  his  arm,  and  her 
whisper  was  at  his  ear,  but  he  raised  a  hand  to  silence 
her,  putting  her  aside. 

"  You're  aligning  yourself  with  a  discredited  cause, 
sir.  Your  case  is  a  bubble  which  I  promise  to  prick  at 
the  opportune  moment.  The  tone  of  your  letters  request- 
ing an  interview  with  a  view  to  reopening  the  case  is  im- 
pertinent. The  compromise  suggested  is  blackmail  and 
will  be  treated  as  such." 

Gallatin  flushed  darkly  and  then  turned  white  at  the 
insult. 

"  Mr.  Loring,  I'll  ask  you  to  choose  your  words  more 
carefully,"  he  said  angrily,  his  jaw  set. 

240 


Father  I  '   .   .   .   Jane's  whisper  was  at  his  ear. 


THE   INTRUDER 


"  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  mincing  words,  and  I'll  hardly 
spare  you  or  the  people  who  employ  you  for  the  sake  of 
a  foolish  whim  of  a  girl,  even  though  she  is " 

"  You  must  not,  Father,"  whispered  Jane  again,  in 
tones  of  anguish.  "  You're  in  your  own  house.  You're 
[violating  all  the " 

"  Be  quiet,"  he  commanded  shortly,  "  or  leave  the 
i-oom." 

"  I  can't  be  quiet.  Mr.  Gallatin  for  the  present  is 
iny  guest  and  as  such 

"  Whatever  Mr.  Gallatin's  presence  here  means, 
there's  little  doubt " 

"  I — I  asked  him  to  come  here,"  Jane  stammered.  "  I 
beg  you  to  leave  us." 

"  No !  If  Mr.  Gallatin  has  come  here  at  your  invita- 
tion, all  the  more  reason  that  you,  too,  should  hear  what 
I  have  to  say  to  him." 

"  I  will  not  listen.  Will  you  please  go,  Mr.  Gallatin, 
at  once?  " 

Phil  Gallatin,  pale  but  composed,  was  standing  im- 
movable. 

"  Thank  you.  If  there's  something  else  your  father 
has  to  say,  I'll  listen  to  it  now,"  he  said.  "  I  can  only 
hope  that  it  will  be  nothing  that  he  will  regret." 

Jane  drew  aside  and  threw  herself  on  the  divan,  her 
i  head  buried  in  her  hands. 

"  There's  hardly  a  danger  of  that,"  said  Loring  grim- 
ly. "  I'll  take  the  risk  anyway.  I'm  in  the  habit  of  keep- 
ing my  house  in  order,  Mr.  Gallatin,  and  I'm  not  the  kind 
to  stop  doing  it  just  because  a  duty  is  unpleasant.  There 
seems  to  be  something  between  you  and  my  daughter.  God 
knows  what !  I  have  known  it  for  some  days,  but  I  haven't 
spoken  of  it  to  her  or  hunted  for  you  because  I  had  reason 
to  believe  that  she  had  had  the  good  sense  to  forget  the 


THE    SILENT   BATTLE 


silly  romantic  ideas  you  had  been  putting  into  her  head. 
I  see  that  I  was  mistaken.  Your  presence  in  this  house 
is  the  proof  of  it.  I'll  try  to  make  my  objections 
known  in  language  that  not  only  you  but  my  daughter 
will  understand." 

With  a  struggle  Gallatin  regained  his  composure, 
folded  his  arms  and  waited.  Jane  raised  her  head,  her 
eyes  pleading,  then  quietly  rose  and  walking  across  the 
room,  laid  her  fingers  on  Phil  Gallatin's  arm  and  stood  by 
his  side,  facing  her  father.  Mr.  Loring  began  speaking, 
but  she  interrupted  him  quickly. 

"  Whatever  you  say  to  Philip  Gallatin,  Father,  you 
will  say  to  me.  Whatever  you  know  of  him — I  know,  too, 
past  or  present.  I  love  him,"  she  finished  solemnly. 

One  of  Gallatin's  arms  went  around  her  and  his  lips 
whispered,  "  Thank  God  for  that,  Jane."  And  then  to- 
gether they  faced  the  older  man.  Mr.  Loring  flinched  and 
some  of  the  purple  went  out  of  his  face,  but  his  lower  lip 
protruded  and  his  bulk  seemed  to  grow  more  compact 
as  the  meaning  of  the  situation  grew  upon  him.  His  small 
eyes  blinked  two  or  three  times  and  then  glowed  into  in- 
candescence. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  he  muttered.  "  It's  as  bad  as  that,  is 
it?  I  hadn't  supposed " 

"  Wait  a  moment,  sir,"  said  Gallatin  clearly.  "  Call 
it  bad,  if  you  like,  but  you  haven't  a  right  to  condemn  me 
without  a  hearing." 

Loring  laughed.  "  A  hearing?  I  know  enough  al- 
ready, Mr.  Gallatin." 

Gallatin  took  a  step  forward  speaking  quietly. 
"  You're  making  a  mistake.  Whatever  you've  heard  about 
me,  I've  at  least  got  the  right  of  any  man  to  defend  him- 
self. You've  already  chosen  to  insult  me  in  your  own 
house.  I've  passed  that  by,  because  this  is  not  the  time 


THE   INTRUDER 


or  place  to  answer.  Kenyon,  Hood  and  Gallatin  are  not 
easily  intimidated — nor  am  I.  I  want  you  to  understand 
that  here — now."  His  voice  fell  a  note.  "  When  I  speak 
of  myself  it  is  a  different  matter.  I  don't  know  what 
you've  heard  about  me,  and  I  don't  much  care,  for  in 
respect  to  one  thing  at  least  I'll  offer  no  excuse  or  ex- 
tenuation. That's  past  and  I'm  living  in  the  hope  that 
as  time  goes  on,  it  will  not  be  borne  too  heavily  against 
me.  But  you've  got  to  believe  whether  you  want  to  or  not 
that  I  would  rather  die  than  have  your  daughter  suffer 
because  of  me." 

"  She  has  suffered  already." 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Jane.  "  Not  suffered — only  lived, 
father." 

"  And  now  you've  quit,  I  suppose,"  said  the  old  man 
ironically,  "  reformed — turned  over  a  new  leaf.  See  here, 
Mr.  Gallatin,  this  thing  has  gone  far  enough.  I've  lis- 
tened to  you  with  some  patience.  Now  you  listen  to  me! 
You've  come  into  my  house  unbidden,  invaded  my  privacy 
here  and  insinuated  yourself  again  into  the  good  graces 
of  my  daughter,  who,  I  had  good  reason  to  believe,  had 
already  forgotten  you.  Your  training  has  served  you 
well.  Fortunately  I'm  not  so  easily  deceived.  Until  the 
present  moment  I  have  trusted  my  daughter's  good  judg- 
ment. Now  I  find  I  must  use  my  own.  If  she  isn't  de- 
terred by  a  knowledge  of  your  history,  perhaps  I  can 
supply  her  with  information  which  will  not  fail.  I  can 
hardly  conceive  that  she  will  overlook  your  conduct  when 
it  involves  the  reputation  of  another  woman ! " 

"  Father !  " 

Henry  Loring  had  reached  the  drawing-room  door  and 
now  stood,  his  legs  apart,  his  fists  clenched,  his  words 
snapping  like  the  receiver  of  a  wireless  station. 

"  Deny — if  you  like !  It  will  have  no  conviction  with 
243 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


me — or  with  her.  Look  at  her,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  he  said, 
his  finger  pointing.  "  There  are  limits  even  to  her  credu-1 
lity.  She  will  hardly  be  pleased  to  learn  of  the  accident 
to  the  motor  which  obliged  you  and  your  companion — * 
very  opportunely,  indeed,  to  spend  the  night  in  a — 

"  Stop,  sir !  "  Gallatin's  hand  was  extended  and  his 
voice  dominated.  "  Say  what  you  like  about  me.  I've 
invited  that,  but  I'll  not  listen  while  you  rob  a  woman  of 
her  name." 

Jane  stood  like  an  ivory  figure  in  the  pale  light,  her; 
eyes  dark  with  incomprehension,  searching  Gallatin's  face 
for  the  truth. 

"There  was  a  woman?"  she  asked. 

Gallatin  hesitated. 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  woman.  There  needn't  be  any 
mystery  about  that.  I  wasn't  aware  that  there  had  been 
any  mystery.  It  was  Nina  Jaffray.  We  were  stranded 
back  in  the  country  coming  from  the  *  Pot  and  Kettle.* 
We  found  a  farmhouse  and  stayed  there.  There  wasn't 
anything  else  to  do.  You  can't  mean  that  you  be-^ 
lieve !" 

Jane  had  turned  from  him  and  walked  toward  the 
door. 

"  It  hadn't  been  my  intention  to  mention  the  lady's 
name,"  Loring  laughed.  "  But  since  Mr.  Gallatin  has  seen 
fit  to  do  so " 

"  You're  going  too  far,  Mr.  Loring.    There  are  ways  ' 
of  reaching  a  man  even  of  your  standing  in  the  com- 
munity." 

Loring  chuckled. 

"  I  fancy  that  this  is  a  matter  which  won't  be  dis- 
cussed elsewhere,"  he  said. 

Gallatin's  eyes  sought  Jane's,  who  now  stood  in  the 


THE   INTRUDER 


cloorway  into  the  hall,  one  hand  clutching  the  silken 
hangings. 

"  You  can't  believe  this,  Jane?  You  have  no  right  to. 
Your  father  has  been  told  a  sinful  lie.  It's  doing  Nina  a 
harm — a  dreadful  harm.  Can't  you  see?  " 
I  At  the  mention  of  Nina's  name  Jane's  lips  twisted 
scornfully  and  with  a  look  of  contempt  she  turned  and 
was  gone. 

Gallatin  took  a  few  steps  forward  as  though  he  would 
have  followed  her,  but  Loring's  bulky  figure  interposed. 

"  We've  had  enough  of  this,  sir,"  he  growled.  "  Let's 
have  this  scene  over.  We're  done  with  you.  You've 

played  h with  your  own  life  and  you'll  go  on  doing 

it,  but  you  won't  play  it  with  me  or  with  any  of  mine, 

by  G .     I've  got  your  measure,  Mr.  Gallatin,  and  if  I 

find  you  interfering  here  again,  I'll  take  some  other  means 
that  will  be  less  pleasant.  D'ye  hear?  I've  heard  the 
story  they're  telling  about  you  and  my  daughter  up  in 
the  woods.  It  makes  fine  chatter  for  your  magpies  up 

and  down  the  Avenue.     D them!     Thank  God,  my 

daughter  is  too  clean  for  them  or  you  to  hurt.  It  was 
a  great  chance  for  you.  You  knew  what  you  were  about. 
You  haven't  lived  in  New  York  all  these  years  for  noth- 
ing. You  thought  you  could  carry  things  through  on 
your  family  name,  but  to  make  the  matter  sure  you  tried 
to  compromise  my  daughter  so  that " 

Loring  paused. 

Gallatin  had  stood  with  head  bowed  before  the  door 
through  which  Jane  had  disappeared.  His  ears  were  deaf 
to  Loring's  tirade;  but  as  he  realized  the  terms  of  the 
indictment,  he  raised  his  head,  stepped  suddenly  forward, 
his  fists  clenched,  his  eyes  blazing  into  those  of  the  older 
man,  scarcely  a  foot  away.  In  Phil  Gallatin's  expression 

245 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


was  the  dumb  fury  of  an  animal  at  bay,  a  wild  light 
in  his  eyes  that  was  a  personal  menace.  Loring  did  not 
know  fear,  but  there  was  something  in  the  look  of  this 
young  man  who  faced  him  which  told  him  he  had  gone  too 
far.  Gallatin's  right  arm  moved  upward,  and  then 
dropped  at  his  side  again. 

"  You — you've  said  enough,  Mr.  Loring,"  he  gasped, 
struggling  for  his  breath.  "  Almost  more  than  is  good — 
for  both — for  either  of  us.  You — you — you're  mis- 
taken, sir." 

And  then  as  though  ashamed  of  his  lack  of  control 
he  turned  aside,  and  took  up  his  hat.  Henry  Loring 
strode  to  the  wall  and  pressed  his  thumb  to  a  bell. 

"  I'll  stand  by  my  mistakes,"  he  said  more  calmly* 
"  You  came  to  the  wrong  house,  Mr.  Gallatin,  and  I  think 
you  won't  forget  it.  I'd  like  you  to  remember  this,  too, 
and  I'm  a  man  of  my  word.  You  keep  your  fingers  off  my 
affairs,  either  business  or  personal,  or  I'll  make  New  York 
too  hot  to  hold  you,"  and  then  as  the  man  appeared, 
"  Hastings,  show  this  gentleman  out !  " 


246 


XXI 

TEMPTATION 

PHILIP  GALLATIN  had  a  bad  night.  From  the 
Loring  house  he  trudged  forth  into  the  rain  and 
sleet  of  the  Park  where  he  walked  until  his  anger 
had  cooled;  then  dined  alone  in  a  corner  at  the  Cosmos, 
avoiding  a  group  of  his  familiars  who  were  attuned  to 
gayety.  From  there  he  went  directly  to  his  rooms. 

The  house  of  his  fathers  was  in  a  by-street  in  the 
center  of  the  fashionable  shopping  district,  and  this  dwell- 
ing, an  old-fashioned  double  house  of  brown  stone,  was 
the  only  relic  that  remained  to  Phil  of  the  former  grandeur 
of  the  Gallatins.  Great  lawyers,  however  successful  in 
safeguarding  the  interests  of  their  clients,  are  notable 
failures  in  safeguarding  the  interests  of  their  own.  Philip 
Gallatin,  the  elder,  had  inherited  a  substantial  fortune, 
but  had  added  nothing  to  it.  He  had  lived  like  a  prince 
and  was  known  as  the  most  lavish  host  of  his  day.  He 
consorted  with  the  big  men  of  his  generation  when  the 
Gallatin  house  was  famous  alike  for  its  cellar  and  kitchen. 
Here  were  entertained  presidents  and  ex-presidents  of  the 
United  States,  foreign  princes,  distinguished  artists  and 
literary  men,  and  here  it  was  claimed,  over  Philip  Galla- 
tin's  priceless  Madeira,  the  way  had  been  paved  for  an 
important  treaty  with  the  Russian  government. 

Philip  Gallatin,  the  second,  had  made  money  easily 
and  spent  it  more  easily,  to  the  end  that  at  the  time  of  his 
death  it  was  discovered  that  the  home  was  heavily  mort- 
gaged, and  that  his  holdings  in  great  industrial  corpora- 

247 


tions,  many  of  which  he  had  helped  to  organize,  had  been 
disposed  of,  leaving  an  income  which,  while  ample  for  Mrs. 
Gallatin  and  her  only  child  during  the  years  of  his  boy- 
hood, when  the  taste  of  society  was  for  quieter  things,  was 
entirely  inadequate  to  the  growing  requirements  of  the 
day.  At  his  mother's  death,  just  after  he  came  of  age, 
Phil  Gallatin  had  found  himself  possessed  of  less  than 
eight  thousand  a  year  gross,  and  a  mortgage  which  called 
for  almost  one-half  that  sum.  But  he  resolutely  refused 
to  part  with  the  house,  for  it  had  memories  and  associa- 
tions dear  to  him. 

Three  years  ago,  with  a  pang  which  he  still  remem- 
bered, he  had  decided  to  rent  out  the  basement  and  lower 
floors  for  business  purposes  and  apply  the  income  thus 
received  to  taxes  and  sinking  fund,  but  he  still  kept  the 
rooms  on  the  third  floor  \\hich  he  had  always  occupied, 
as  his  own.  An  old  servant  named  Barker,  one  of  the 
family  retainers,  was  in  attendance.  Barker  had  watched 
the  tide  of  commerce  flow  in  and  at  last  engulf  the  street 
which  in  his  mind  would  always  be  associated  with  the 
family  which  he  had  served  so  long.  But  he  would  not 
go,  so  Philip  Gallatin  found  a  place  for  him.  In  the 
building  he  was  janitor,  engineer,  rent  collector,  and 
valet.  He  cooked  Phil's  breakfast  of  eggs  and  coffee  and 
brought  it  up  to  him,  made  his  bed  and  kept  his  rooms 
with  the  same  scrupulous  care  that  he  had  exercised  in 
the  heydey  of  prosperity.  He  was  Phil's  doctor,  nurse 
and  factotum,  and  kept  the  doors  of  Gallatin's  apartments 
against  all  invaders. 

Phil  Gallatin  wearily  climbed  the  two  long  flights 
which  led  to  the  rooms.  He  had  had  a  trying  day.  All 
the  morning  had  been  spent  with  John  Sanborn,  and  a 
plan  had  been  worked  out  based  upon  the  labors  of  the 
past  three  weeks.  One  important  decision  had  been 

248 


TEMPTATION 


reached,  and  a  concession  wrung  at  last  from  his  clients. 
He  had  worked  at  high  tension  since  the  case  had  been, 
put  into  his  hands,  traveling,  eating  when  and  where  he 
could,  working  late  at  the  ofSce,  sleeping  little,  and  in. 
spare  moments  had  written  to  or  thought  of  Jane.  The 
strain  of  his  anxiety  was  now  beginning  to  tell.  The 
events  of  the  afternoon  had  filled  him  with  a  new  sense  of 
the  difficulties  of  his  undertakings.  Loring  would  fight  to 
the  last  ditch.  All  the  more  glory  in  driving  him  there! 

But  of  Jane  he  thought  with  less  assurance.  His  own 
mind  had  been  so  innocent  of  transgression,  his  own  heart 
so  filled  with  the  thought  of  her,  that  her  willingness  to 
believe  evil  of  him  and  of  Nina  had  caused  a  singular 
revulsion  of  feeling  which  was  playing  havoc  with  his  senti- 
ments. It  had  not  mattered  so  much  when  Jane's  indict- 
ment had  been  for  him  alone;  that,  he  had  deserved  and 
had  been  willing  to  stand  trial  for ;  but  with  Nina's  repu- 
tation at  stake  Jane's  intolerance  took  a  different  aspect. 
Whatever  Nina  Jaffray's  faults,  and  they  were  many,  Phil 
Gallatin  knew,  as  every  one  else  in  the  Cedarcroft  crowd 
did,  that  they  were  the  superficial  ones  of  the  day  and 
generation  and  that  Nina's  pleasure  was  in  the  creation  of 
smoke  rather  than  flame. 

The  failure  of  the  motor  after  the  "  Pot  and  Kettle  " 
party  had  been  unfortunate,  and  the  lack  of  oil  subse- 
quently explained  by  the  drunkenness  of  the  chauffeur  who 
had  been  discharged  on  Miss  Jaffray's  return  to  town. 
Phil  Gallatin  had  found  a  farmhouse,  where  Nina  had  been 
made  comfortable.  There  was  no  gasoline  within  five 
miles  of  the  place.  The  chauffeur  was  unable  to  cope  with 
the  situation  and  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  until 
morning,  when  the  farmer  himself  drove  Gallatin  to  the 
nearest  village  for  the  needed  fuel. 

Under  other  circumstances  it  might  have  been  an 
249 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


amusing  experience,  but  the  events  of  the  evening  had  put 
a  damper  on  them  both.  Nina's  impudence  was  smothered 
in  her  fur  collar,  and  she  had  sat  sulkily  through  the 
hours  of  darkness,  gazing  at  the  stove,  saying  not  a  word, 
and  the  delinquent  chauffeur  had  meanwhile  gone  to  sleep 
on  the  floor  of  the  kitchen.  Morning  saw  them  safe  in 
town  at  an  early  hour,  and  it  had  been  at  Nina's  request 
that  the  incident  had  not  been  mentioned.  Until  to-day 
Gallatin  had  not  given  it  a  thought.  He  had  not  seen 
Nina,  and  while  he  had  frequently  thought  of  her,  the 
flight  of  time  and  the  press  of  affairs  had  given  her  singu- 
lar confession  a  perspective  that  took  something  from  its 
importance.  But  Jane's  attitude  had  suddenly  made  Nina 
the  dominant  figure  in  the  situation.  Whatever  mischief 
she  had  created  in  his  own  affairs,  she  had  not  deserved 
this! 

He  entered  his  rooms  filled  with  bitterness  toward 
Henry  Loring,  dull  resentment  toward  Jane.  Everything 
in  the  world  that  he  hoped  for  had  centered  about  her 
image,  and  he  loved  her  for  what  she  had  been  to  him, 
what  she  had  made  of  him  and  for  what  he  had  made  of 
himself,  but  in  his  mind  a  definite  conviction  had  grown, 
that  in  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  their  relations  were 
now  at  an  end.  He  had  abased  himself  enough  and  further 
efforts  at  a  reconciliation  could  only  demean  his  dignity, 
already  jeopardized,  and  his  pride,  already  mortally 
wounded. 

He  threw  himself  heavily  into  his  Morris  chair  and 
tried  to  think  about  other  things.  Upon  the  table  there 
was  a  legal  volume  which  he  had  brought  up  from  the 
office  the  night  before,  filled  with  slips  of  paper  for  the 
reference  pages  which  Tooker  had  placed  there  for  him. 
He  took  it  up  and  began  to  read,  but  his  mind  wandered. 
,The  type  swam  before  his  eyes  and  in  its  place  Jane's 

250 


TEMPTATION 


face  appeared,  ivory-colored  as  he  had  last  seen  it,  and 
her  eyes  dark  with  pain  and  incomprehension  looked  scorn- 
fully out  of  the  page.  He  closed  the  book  and  gazed 
around  the  room,  into  the  dusty  corners,  with  their  me- 
mentos of  his  career:  the  oar  that  had  been  his  when  he 
had  stroked  the  crew  of  his  university,  boxing  gloves,  foils 
and  mask,  photographs  of  football  teams  in  which  he  had 
been  interested,  a  small  cabinet  of  cups — golf  and  steeple- 
chase prizes,  a  policeman's  helmet,  the  spoils  of  a  college 
prank,  his  personal  library  (his  father's  was  in  a  storage 
warehouse),  trinkets  of  all  sorts,  steins  innumerable,  a  tiny 
satin  slipper,  some  ivories  and — a  small  gold  flask. 

He  got  out  of  his  chair,  picked  the  flask  up,  and 
examined  it  as  if  it  had  been  something  he  had  never  seen 
before.  He  ran  his  fingers  over  the  chasing  of  the  cup, 
noted  the  dents  that  had  been  made  when  it  had  fallen 
among  the  rocks,  and  the  dark  scar  made  in  the  embers  of 
their  fire. 

Their  fire !    His  fire  and  Jane's — burned  out  to  ashes. 

He  put  the  flask  back  in  its  place  and  began  slowly  to 
pace  the  floor,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  head  bent 
forward,  his  eyes  peering  somberly.  He  stopped  in  his 
walk  and  put  a  lump  of  coal  into  the  grate.  He  was  dead 
tired  and  his  muscles  ached  as  though  with  a  cold.  In  the 
next  room  his  bed  invited  him,  but  he  did  not  undress, 
for  he  knew  that  if  he  went  to  bed  it  would  only  be  to  lie 
and  gaze  at  the  gray  patch  of  light  where  the  window  was. 
He  had  done  that  before  and  the  memory  of  the  dull  ache 
in  his  body  during  the  long  night  when  he  had  suffered 
came  to  him  and  overpowered  him.  He  had  that  pain 
now — coming  slowly,  as  it  had  sometimes  done  before  when 
he  had  been  working  on  his  nerve.  It  didn't  grip  him  as 
once  it  had  done,  with  its  clutch  of  fire,  driving  everything 
else  from  his  thoughts.  But  he  was  conscious  that  the 

251 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


craving  was  still  there,  and  he  knew  that  the  thing  he 
wanted  was  the  panacea  for  the  thoughts  that  oppressed 
him.  By  its  means  all  the  aches  of  his  body  would  be 
cured  and  the  pain  of  his  thoughts.  Yes !  He  stopped  at 
the  table  and  took  up  a  cigarette.  But  there  was  one 
thing  in  him,  one  thing  more  important  than  physical 
pain,  than  physical  exhaustion  or  singing  nerves,  one 
small  celestial  spark  that  he  had  kindled,  fostered,  and 
tended  which  had  warmed  and  comforted  his  entire  being 
— the  glow  of  his  returning  self-respect;  and  this  thing 
he  knew,  if  those  physical  pangs  were  cured,  would  die. 

He  took  up  his  measured  tread  of  the  floor,  counting 
his  footsteps  from  window  to  door  and  back  again,  watch- 
ing the  patterns  in  the  rug  and  picking  out  the  figures 
upon  which  he  was  to  put  his  feet.  Once  or  twice  his  foot- 
steps led  him  as  though  unconsciously  to  the  cabinet  in  the 
corner,  where  he  stopped  with  a  short  laugh.  He  had  for- 
gotten that  there  was  no  panacea  there.  Later  on  he 
rang  the  bell  for  Barker,  only  to  remember  that  the  man 
had  gone  away  for  the  night.  He  wanted  some  one  to 
talk  to — some  one — any  one  who  could  make  him  forget. 
What  was  the  use?  What  did  it  matter  to  any  one  but 
himself  if  he  forgot  or  not?  What  was  he  fighting  for? 
For  himself?  Yesterday  and  the  days  before  he  had  been 
fighting  for  Jane,  fighting  gladly — downtown,  in  his 
clubs,  at  people's  houses,  in  the  Enemy's  country,  where 
the  Enemy  was  to  be  found  at  every  corner,  at  his  very 
elbow,  because  he  knew  that  nothing  could  avail  against 
his  purpose  to  win  Jane  back  to  him. 

Now  he  had  no  such  purpose.  Jane  had  turned  from 
him  because  some  one  had  lied  about  him,  turned  away  and 
left  him  here  alone  in  the  dark  with  this  hideous  thing  that 
was  rising  up  in  him  and  would  not  let  him  think. 

He  went  to  the  table  and  filled  a  pipe  with  trembling 

252 


TEMPTATION 


fingers.  A  terror  oppressed  him,  the  imminence  of  a  dan- 
ger. It  was  the  horror  of  being  alone,  alone  in  the  room 
where  this  thing  was.  He  knew  it  well.  It  had  been  here 
before  and  it  had  conquered  him.  It  lurked  in  the  dark 
corners  and  grinned  from  his  bookshelves  and  laughed  in 
the  crackling  of  his  fire.  "  Come,"  he  could  hear  it  say, 
"  don't  you  remember  old  Omar? 

"  Come,  fill  the  Cup,  and  in  the  Fire  of  Spring 
The  Winter  Garment  of  Repentance  fling; 
The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 

To  fly — and  Lo !  the  Bird  is  on  the  Wing. ' ' 

His  pulses  throbbed  and  his  head  was  burning,  though! 
a  cold  sweat  had  broken  out  on  his  brows  and  temples,^ 
and  his  feet  were  cold — ice  cold.  The  tobacco  had  no 
taste,  and  it  only  parched  his  throat  the  more.  He; 
stumbled  into  the  bathroom  and  bathed  his  head  and 
hands  in  the  cold  water,  and  drank  of  it  in  huge  gulps.' 
That  relieved  him  for  a  moment  and  he  went  back  to  his. 
chair  and  took  up  his  book. 

His  sickness  came  back  upon  him  slowly,  a  premoni-' 
tory  faintness  and  then  a  gripping,  aching  fire  within J 
The  book  trembled  in  his  hands  and  the  type  swam  in 
strange  shapes.  He  clenched  his  fingers,  threw  the  book 
from  him  and  rose  with  an  oath,  reaching  for  his  hat  and 
coat  and  stumbling  toward  the  door.  Downstairs,  less 
than  a  block  away 

Beside  the  bookcase  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  image 
in  the  pier  glass.  He  stopped,  glared  at  himself  and 
straightened. 

"Where  are  you  going,  d n  you?  Where?  Like 

a  thief  in  the  night?  Look  at  me!  You  can't!  Where 
are  you  going?  " 

253 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


There  was  no  answer  but  the  laughter  of  the  flames 
and  the  sneer  of  a  motor  in  the  Avenue. 

His  hand  released  the  knob  and  he  turned  back  into 
the  room,  with  eyes  staring,  teeth  set  and  face  ghastly. 

"  No,  by  G .  You'll  not  go,  Phil  Gallatin,  not  from 

this  room  to-night — not  for  that.  Do  you  hear?  You'U 
fight  this  thing  out  here  and  now." 

He  dropped  his  coat  and  hat  and  strode  like  a  fury  to 
the  window.  There  he  lay  across  the  sill,  and  throwing 
the  sash  open  wide,  drank  the  night  air  into  his  lungs  in 
deep  breaths. 

In  a  moment  the  crisis  had  passed.  After  a  while  he 
closed  the  window,  came  back  into  the  room  and  sank 
into  his  chair,  utterly  exhausted.  His  mind  comprehended 
dully  that  he  had  fought  and  won,  not  for  Jane,  nor  for 
his  future,  but  for  that  small  fire  that  was  still  glowing 
in  his  breast.  :  He  closed  his  eyes  and  relaxed  his  clenched 
fingers.  His  nerves  still  tingled  but  only  slightly  like  the 
tremor  of  harpstrings  in  a  passing  storm.  He  was  very 
v tired  and  in  a  moment  he  fell  asleep. 

When  he  awoke,  the  light  of  dawn  was  filtering  in  at 
the  windows.*'  The  lamp  had  gone  out.  He  struck  a  match 
and  made  a  light.  ;-  It  was  six  o'clock.  He  had  slept  seven 
hours.  4  He  yawned,  stretched  himself  and  looked  at  his 
'disordered  reflection  in  the  mirror,  suddenly  awake  to 
,the  beginning  of  a  new  day.  *  The  aches  in  his  body  had 
gone  and  his  mind  was  clear  again.  He  leaned  forward 
upon  the  mantel  and  silently  apostrophized  his  image. 

"You're  going  to  win,  Phil  Gallatin.  Do  you  hear? 
You're  not  afraid.  You  don't  care  what  the  world  says. 
You're  not  fighting  for  the  world's  opinion.  It's  only 

your  own  opinion  of  yourself  that  matters  a  d n. 

If  you  win  that,  you've  won  everything  in  the  world  worth 
winning." 

254 


TEMPTATION 


He  laughed  pleasantly  and  his  image  smiled  back  at 
him. 

"Salut!  Monsieur!  You're  a  good  sort  after  all! 
You've  got  more  sand  than  I  thought  you  had.  I'm 
beginning  to  like  you  a  great  deal.  You  can  look  me  in 
the  eye  now,  straight  in  the  eye.  That's  right.  We  un- 
derstand each  other." 

He  faced  around  into  the  room  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  so  many  of  his  failures,  and  of  his  last  and  great- 
est success.  The  light  from  the  windows  was  growing 
brighter.  It  was  painting  familiar  objects  with  pale  violet 
patches,  glinting  on  glassware  and  porcelain  like  the  cold 
light  of  intellect,  which  now  dominated  the  merely  phys- 
ical. He  swept  the  room  with  a  glance.  Before  the  light 
the  shadows  were  fading.  The  Enemy 

There  was  no  Enemy! 

Gallatin  poked  down  the  embers  of  the  fire  and  heaped 
on  wood  and  coal.  He  stripped  to  his  underclothes,  did 
twenty  minutes  with  dumb-bells  and  chest  weights,  and 
then  went  in  to  draw  his  bath,  singing.  He  soused  himself 
in  the  cold  water  and  came  out  with  chattering  teeth,  but 
in  a  moment  his  body  was  all  aglow. 

"  It's  a  good  body,"  he  mused  as  he  rubbed  it,  "  a 
perfectly  good  body,  too  good  to  abuse.  There's  a  soul 
inside  there,  too.  Where,  nobody  seems  to  know,  but  it's 
there  and  it  isn't  in  the  stomach,  and  that's  a  sure  thing, 
though  that's  where  the  stomach  thinks  it  is.  We'll  give 
this  body  a  chance,  if  you  please,  a  square  deal  all 
around." 

He  chuckled  and  thumped  himself  vigorously,  as> 
though  to  assure  himself  of  the  thoroughness  of  his  recu- 
peration. Seven  o'clock  found  him  on  the  street  walking 
vigorously  in  the  direction  of  the  Park.  He  knew  that 
there  was  no  chance  of  meeting  Jane  Loring  at  this  hour 

255 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


of  the  morning,  but  he  chose  the  west  side  that  he  might 
not  even  see  the  marble  mass  where  she  was  sleeping,  for 
the  memory  of  what  had  happened  there  yesterday 
rankled  like  an  angry  wound. 

He  breakfasted  at  the  Cosmos  at  eight,  and  before 
nine  was  at  the  office  where  he  finished  the  morning  mail 
before  even  Tooker  and  the  clerks  were  aware  of  his  pres- 
ence there.  There  were  many  threads  of  the  Sanborn 
case  still  at  a  loose  end  and  he  spent  a  long  while  writing 
and  dictating  to  his  stenographer,  who  was  still  at  his 
side,  when,  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  the  office  boy  brought 
in  Nina  Jaffray's  card. 

He  was  still  looking  at  it  when  Nina  entered. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  be  busy,  Phil,"  she  said 
calmly,  "  but  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  something." 

He  nodded  to  his  stenographer  and  she  took  up  her 
papers  and  went. 

"  The    mountain    wouldn't    come    to    Mahomet    and 


so- 


"  Do  sit  down,  Nina." 

"  I'm  not  interrupting  you  very  much,  am  I  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  No.     I'm  glad  you  came,  if  only  to  prove  to  my 
friends  that  I  really  do  work." 

"Oh,  is  that  all?" 

"  No.     I'm  glad  to  see  you  for  other  reasons." 

"  I'm  curious  to  know  them." 

"  To  be  assured,  for  one  thing,  that  you've  forgiven  me 
for  my  boorishness " 

"  Oh,  that !    Yes.    Of  course." 

"  And  for  another — that  your  mood  will  spare  me  the 
pains  of  further  making  a  fool  of  myself." 

Nina  shrugged  lightly  and  laughed  at  him. 
256 


TEMPTATION 


"  Of  course  you  know  your  limitations,  Phil.  How 
could  I  promise  you  that?  " 

Gallatin  smiled  at  her.  She  was  very  fetching  this 
morning  in  a  wide  dark  beaver  hat  with  a  lilac  veil,  and 
her  well-cut  tailor-made,  snugly  fitting  in  the  prevailing 
mode,  defined  the  long  lines  of  her  slim  figure  which  seemed 
in  his  office  chair  to  be  very  much  at  its  ease. 

"  Will  you  be  serious  ?  " 

"  In  a  moment.  For  the  present  I'm  so  over j  oyed  at 
seeing  you,  that  I've  forgotten  what  I  came  for.  Oh,  yes — 
Phil,  I'm  hopelessly  compromised  and  you've  done  it. 
Don't  laugh  and  don't  alarm  yourself.  You're  doing  both 
at  the  same  time — but  I  really  am — seriously  compro- 
mised. There's  a  story  going  around  that  you  and  I " 

"  Yes,  I've  heard  it,"  he  said  grimly. 

"  What  interest  people  can  possibly  discover  in  the 
mishaps  of  a  belated  platonic  couple  in  a  snowstorm  is 
more  than  I  can  fathom.  Of  course,  if  there  had  been 
anything  for  them  to  talk  about,  I'd  have  come  off  scot- 
free.  As  it  is  I'm  pilloried  in  the  market  place  as  a  warn- 
ing to  budding  innocence !  Imagine  it !  Me !  I'm  every- 
thing that's  naughty,  from  Eve  to  Guinevere.  It  would 
be  quite  sad,  if  it  wasn't  so  amusing.  Weren't  we  the  very 
presentment  of  amatory  felicity?  Can't  you  see  us  now, 
swathed  in  our  fur  coats,  sitting  like  two  bundled  mum- 
mies upon  each  side  of  that  monstrosity  they  called  a 
stove,  '  The  Parlor  Heater,*  that  was  the  name,  from  Hig- 
gins  and  Harlow,  Phila.,  Pa.,  done  in  nickel  at  the  top. 
Can't  you  see  us  sitting  upright  on  those  dreadful  hair- 
cloth chairs,  silent  and  so  miserable?  That,  my  dear 
Philip,  was  the  seductive  hour  in  which  I  fell  from  grace. 
Touching  picture,  isn't  it?  " 

Gallatin  refused  to  smile. 

"  Who  told  this  story,  Nina?  " 

257 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  The  chauffeur  probably.  I  discharged  him  the  next 
day." 

"  Of  course — that  was  it.  But  it's  such  a  silly  yarn. 
Who  will  believe  it ?  " 

She  threw  up  her  hands  in  mock  despair. 

"  Every  one — unfortunately.  You  see  Coley  Van  Duyn 
didn't  help  matters  any  by  telling  about  your  kissing  me 
on  the  stairs." 

"  D n  him,"  said  Phil,  through  his  teeth. 

"  Besides,  I've  been  careless  of  their  opinion  for  so 
long  that  people  are  only  glad  to  get  something  tangible." 

"  But  it  isn't  tangible.  That  farmer  out  there 
could " 

Nina  raised  her  hand. 

"  Denial  is  confession,  my  dear.  I  shall  deny  nothing. 
I  shall  only  smile.  In  my  saddest  moments  the  memory 
of  Higgins  and  Harlow's  parlor  heater  with  its  nickel 
icicles  around  the  top  will  restore  my  equanimity.  I  don't 
think  I've  ever  before  really  appreciated  the  true  sym- 
bolism of  the  nickel  icicle." 

Gallatin  had  risen  and  was  pacing  the  floor  before 
her. 

"  This  gossip  must  be  stopped,"  he  said  scowling  at 
the  rug.  "  If  I  can't  stop  it  in  one  way,  I  can  in  an- 
other." 

"  And  drag  my  shattered  fabric  into  the  rumpus?  No, 
thanks.  J'y  suis — j'y  reste.  The  role  of  martyr  becomes 
me.  In  my  own  eyes  I'm  already  canonized.  I  think  I  like 
the  sensation.  It  has  the  merit  of  being  a  novel  one  at 
any  rate." 

"  Nina,  do  stop  talking  nonsense,"  he  put  in  impa- 
tiently. "  I'm  not  going  to  sit  here  placidly  and  let  them 
tell  this  lie." 

"  Well," — Nina  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  tilted 
258 


TEMPTATION 


her  head  sideways — "  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?  " 

"  I'll  make  them  answer  to  me — personally.  It  was 
my  fault.  I  ought  to  have  walked  home,  I  suppose." 

"  But  you  didn't — that's  the  rub.  They  won't  answer 
to  you  personally  anyway,  at  least  nobody  but  the  chauf- 
feur, and  he  might  do  it — er — unpleasantly." 

"  I'll  thrash  him— I'll  break  his " 

"  No,  you  won't.  It  wouldn't  do  the  least  bit  of  good, 
and  besides  it  would  make  matters  worse  if  lie  thrashed 
you.  There's  only  one  thing  left  for  you  to  do,  my 
friend." 

"What?" 

"  Marry  me !  " 

Phil  Gallatin  stopped  pacing  the  floor  and  faced  her, 
frowning. 

"  You  still  insist  on  that  joke?  " 

"  I  do.  And  it's  no  joke.  It  seems  to  be  the  least 
thing  that  you  can  do,  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Oh,  is  it !  " 

"  Of  course.  You  wouldn't  leave  things  as  they  are, 
would  you?  Think  of  my  shrinking  susceptibilities,  the 
atrocious  significance  of  your  negligence.  Really,  Phil,  I 
don't  see  how  you  can  refuse  me !  " 

Gallatin  laughed.     He  understood  her  now. 

"  I'm  immensely  flattered.  I'll  marry  you  with  great 
pleasure " 

"  Oh,  thanks." 

"  If  I  ever  decide  to  marry  any  one." 

"Phil!" 

She  glanced  past  him  out  of  the  window,  smiling. 
ft  And  you're  not  going  to  marry — any  one?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  was  afraid  you  might  be."  She  rose  and  took  up 
259 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


her  silver  bric-a-brac  which  clanked  cheerfully.  She  had 
learned  what  she  came  for. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  won't  despair.  I'm  not  half  bad,  you 
know.  Think  it  over.  Some  day,  perhaps." 

"  It  would  be  charming,  I'm  sure,"  he  said  politely. 

"  And,  Phil "     She  paused. 

"What?" 

"  Come  and  see  a  fellow  once  in  a  while,  won't  you  ? 
You  know,  propinquity  is  love's  alter  ego." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it.  Perhaps  that's  why  I'm  afraid  to 
come." 

She  laughed  again  as  she  went  out  and  he  followed 
her  to  the  door  of  the  outer  office  where  Miss  Crenshaw 
and  Miss  Gillespie  scrutinized  her  perfectly  appointed 
costume  and  then  tossed  their  heads  the  fraction  of  an 
inch,  adjusted  their  sidecombs  and  went  on  with  their 
work. 


260 


XXII 

SMOKE   AND   FIRE 

DOWNSTAIRS  Miss  Jaffray  entered  her  machine 
and  was  driven  northward. 
It  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  supposed  during 
the  weeks  which  followed  Mr.  Egerton's  party  that  Miss 
Jaffray  had  retired  from  the  social  scene.  And  if  her 
rebuff  at  Phil  Gallatin's  hands  had  dampened  the  ardor 
of  her  enjoyment,  no  sign  of  it  appeared.  She  was  more 
joyously  satirical,  more  unmitigably  bored,  more  ob- 
trusively indifferent  than  ever.  But  those  who  knew  Nina 
best  discovered  a  more  daring  unconvention  in  her  opin- 
ions and  a  caustic  manner  of  speech  which  spared  no  one, 
not  even  herself.  She  was,  if  anything,  a  concentrated 
essence  of  Nina  Jaffray. 

A  woman's  potentiality  for  mischief  proceeds  in  in- 
verse ratio  to  her  capacity  for  benevolence,  and  Nina's 
altruism  was  subjective.  She  gave  her  charity  unaffected- 
ly to  all  four-legged  things  except  the  fox,  which  had  been 
contributed  to  the  economic  scheme  by  a  beneficent  Provi- 
dence for  the  especial  uses  of  cross-country  riders.  She 
i  spent  much  care  and  sympathy  upon  her  horses,  and 
exacted  its  equivalent  in  muscular  energy.  Two-legged 
things  enjoyed  her  liking  in  the  exact  proportion  that 
they  contributed  to  her  amusement  or  in  the  measure 
that  they  did  not  interfere  with  her  plans. 

But  the  word  benevolent  applied  to  Nina  with  about  as 
much  fitness  as  it  would  to  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn. 

The  motto  of  New  York  is  "The  Devil  Take  the 
261 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Hindmost,"  and  it  feelingly  voiced  Nina's  sentiments  in 
the  world  and  in  the  hunting  field.  She  had  always  made 
it  a  practice  to  ride  well  up  with  the  leaders,  and  to  keep 
clear  of  the  underbrush,  and  had  never  had  much  sym- 
pathy for  the  laggards.  There  was  a  Spartan  quality  in 
her  point  of  view  with  regard  to  others,  which  remained 
to  be  put  to  the  test  with  regard  to  herself.  The  occasion 
for  such  a  test,  it  seemed,  had  arrived.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  was  apparently  denied  the  thing  she 
most  wanted.  She  had  even  been  willing  to  acknowledge 
to  herself  that  she  wouldn't  have  wanted  Phil  Gallatin  if 
she  hadn't  discovered  that  he  wanted  some  one  else. 

But  her  liking  for  him  had  been  transmuted  into  a 
warmer  regard  with  a  rapidity  which  really  puzzled  her 
and  forced  her  to  the  conclusion  that  she  had  cared  for 
him  always.  And  Phil  Gallatin's  indifference  had  stimu- 
lated her  interest  in  him  to  a  degree  which  made  it  neces- 
sary for  her  to  win  him  away  from  Jane  Loring  at  all 
hazards. 

She  was  not  in  the  least  unhappy  about  the  matter. 
Here  was  a  real  difficulty  to  be  overcome,  the  first  in  per- 
sonal importance  that  she  had  ever  faced,  and  she  met  it 
with  a  smile,  aware  that  all  of  the  arts  which  a  woman 
may  use  (and  some  which  she  may  not)  must  be  brought 
into  play  to  accomplish  her  ends. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Nina's  mechanism  was  working 
at  the  highest  degree  of  efficiency  and  she  was  taking  a 
real  delight  in  life,  such  as  she  had  never  before  expe- 
rienced. Since  the  "  Pot  and  Kettle "  affair  she  had 
thought  much  and  deeply,  had  noted  Coleman  Van  Duyn's 
attentions  to  Jane  Loring,  and  her  acceptance  of  them, 
had  heard  with  an  uncommon  interest  of  their  reported 
engagement  and  had  kept  herself  informed  as  to  the 
goings  and  comings  of  Phil  Gallatin.  And  she  read  Jane 

262 


SMOKE   AND    FIRE 


Loring  as  one  may  read  an  open  book.  Their  personal 
relations  were  the  perfection  of  amiability.  They  had 
met  informally  on  several  occasions  when  Nina  had  noted 
with  well-concealed  amusement  the  slightly  exaggerated 
warmth  of  Jane's  greeting,  and  had  taken  care  to  return 
this  display  of  friendship  in  kind.  Everything  added  to 
the  conviction  that  Jane's  love  of  Phil  was  only  exceeded 
by  her  hatred  of  Nina  Jaffray. 

And  yet  until  this  morning  Nina  had  had  moments  of 
uncertainty,  for  the  incident  Jane  had  witnessed  was  too 
trivial  to  stand  the  test  of  sober  second  thought,  and 
Jane  was  just  silly  enough  to  forgive  and  forget  it. 

Nina's  visit  to  Phil  Gallatin's  office  had  agreeably 
surprised  her,  for  Phil  had  made  it  perfectly  clear  that 
his  estrangement  from  Jane  still  existed.  But  to  make 
the  matter  doubly  sure,  Nina  had  decided  to  play  a  card 
she  had  been  holding  in  reserve.  In  other  words,  more 
smoke  was  needed  and  Nina  was  prepared  to  provide  the 
fuel. 

First  she  met  Coleman  Van  Duyn  by  appointment  at 
her  own  house,  and  they  had  a  long  chat,  during  which, 
without  his  being  aware  of  it,  he  was  the  subject  of  a 
searching  examination  which  had  for  its  object  the  revela- 
tion of  the  exact  relation  between  himself  and  Miss  Lo- 
ring. Even  Coley,  it  seemed,  was  not  satisfied  with  the 
state  of  affairs.  They  were  not  engaged.  No.  He  was 
willing  to  admit  it,  but  he  had  hopes  that  before  the  win- 
ter was  over  Miss  Loring  would  see  things  his  way.  His 
dislike  of  Phil  Gallatin  was  thinly  veiled  and  Nina  played 
upon  it  with  a  skill  which  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  to 
the  end  that  at  the  last  Coley  came  out  into  the  open  and 
declared  himself  flat-footed. 

"  I  don't  know — your  relations  with  him,  Nina.  Don't 
care,  really.  You  know  your  way  about  and  all  that  sort 

263 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


of  thing,  but  he's  going  it  too  strong.  I'm  tired  of  beatin' 
about  the  bush.  I  know  a  thing  or  two  about  Phil  Gal- 
latin  and  I'll  tell  'em  soon.  It's  time  people  knew  the  sort 
of  a  Johnny  that  fellow  is." 

"  Oh,  I  know,  Coley.  You're  prejudiced.  You've  got 
a  right  to  be.  A  man  doesn't  want  any  scandal  hanging 
around  the  name  of  the  girl  he's  going  to  marry.  Every- 
body knows,  of  course,  that  Phil  and  Jane  Loring  were 
together  last  summer  up  in  the  woods  and  that " 

Van  Duyn  had  risen,  his  eyes  more  protrusive,  his  face 
more  purple  than  was  good  for  him.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  heard  that  story  spoken  of  with  such  freedom,  and 
it  shocked  him. 

"  It  wasn't  Jane,"  he  roared.  "  She  wasn't  the  only 
woman  in  Canada  last  summer.  How  do  you  know  it  was 
Jane?" 

"  She  admitted  it,"  said  Nina  sadly. 

"  Oh,  she  did !  Well,  what  of  it?  If  I  don't  care,  what 
business  is  it  of  anybody  else?  She  suits  me  and  I'm  going 
to  marry  her." 

He  stopped  and  glared  at  Nina,  as  though  it  was  she 
who  was  the  sole  author  of  his  unhappiness.  Nina  only 
smiled  up  at  him  encouragingly. 

"  Of  course,  you  are.  That's  one  of  the  things  I 
wanted  to  see  you  about.  I  think  I  can  help  you,  Coley, 
if  you'll  let  me." 

She  made  him  sit  down  again  and  when  he  was  more 
composed,  went  on. 

"  You  see  it's  this  way.  I  don't  mind  your  running 
Phil  down,  if  it  gives  you  any  pleasure,  but  you  might 
as  well  know  that  I  don't  share  your  opinions.  He  isn't 
your  sort,  you  don't  understand  him,  and  he  has  managed 
to  come  between  you  and  Jane.  But  I  don't  see  the  slight- 
est use  in  getting  excited.  These  silly  romantic  affairs 

264 


SMOKE   AND    FIRE 


of  the  teens  are  seldom  really  dangerous.    Phil's  infirmities 
excited  her  pity." 

"  His  infirmities !  " 

"  Yes,  but  Jane  Loring  isn't  the  kind  of  a  girl  to  put 
up  with  that  kind  of  thing  long." 

"  Rather— not !" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  what  you  do.  I  mean  that  she 
isn't  suited  to  him,  that's  all.  There  are  other  women 
wao  might  marry  him  and  make  something  of  him.'* 

"Who?"  he  sneered. 

"  I,"  she  said  calmly. 

Her  quiet  tone  transfixed  him. 

"  You  want  to — to  marry  him  ?  " 

"  Yes — and  I'm  going  to.  Perhaps  you  understand 
now  how  we  can  help  each  other." 

"  By  George !  I  hadn't  an  idea,  Nina.  I  knew  you'd 
been  flirting  with  him — and  all  that — but  marriage !  " 

She  nodded. 

"  You  are  a  good  sort,"  he  grinned.  "  Do  you  really 
mean  it?  Of  course  I'll  help  you  if  I  can,  but  I  hardly 
see " 

"  You  don't  have  to  see.  Jane  Loring  may  still  have  a 
fancy  for  Phil  Gallatin,  but  it  ought  to  be  perfectly 
obvious  that  she  can't  marry  him  if  he's  going  to  marry 
me.  All  I  want  you  to  do  just  now  is  to  make  yourself 
necessary  to  Jane  Loring.  Propose  to  her  again  to-mor- 
row," and  then  with  convincing  assurance,  "  I  think  she'll 
accept  you." 

"You  do?    Why?" 

"  That,  if  you'll  pardon  me,  is  a  matter  I  do  not 
care  to  discuss."  She  arose  and  dismissed  him  gracefully, 
and  Van  Duyn  wandered  forth  into  Gramercy  Park 
with  a  feeling  very  like  that  of  a  timorous  hospital  patient 
who  has  for  the  first  time  been  subjected  to  the  X-ray. 

265 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Nina  lunched  alone,  then  dressed  for  the  afternoon 
and  ordered  her  machine.  She  had  made  no  mistake  in 
presupposing  that  Jane  Loring's  curiosity  would  out- 
weigh her  prejudices.  In  their  talk  upon  the  telephone 
there  had  been  a  slight  hesitation,  scarcely  noticeable,  on 
Jane's  part,  after  which,  she  had  expressed  herself  as  de- 
lighted at  the  opportunity  of  seeing  Nina  at  the  Loring 
house. 

Miss  Jaffray  entered  the  portals  of  the  vast  estab- 
lishment, her  slender  figure  lost  in  the  great  drawing- 
room,  as  she  moved  restlessly  from  one  object  of  art  to 
another  awaiting  her  hostess,  like  a  mischievous  and  lonely 
bacillus  newly  liberated  into  a  new  field  of  endeavor. 

"  Nina,  dear !  "  said  Jane  effusively  as  she  entered. 
"  So  sweet  of  you.  I  haven't  really  had  a  chance  to  have 
a  talk  with  you  for  ages." 

"  How  wonderfully  pretty  you  look,  Jane  ?  I'm  sim- 
ply wild  with  envy  of  you." 

It  was  the  feminine  convention.  Each  pecked  the 
other  just  once  below  the  eye  and  each  wished  that  the 
other  had  never  been  born.  Jane  led  the  way  into  the 
library  where  they  sat  side  by  side  on  the  big  divan,  where 
they  both  skillfully  maneuvered  for  an  opening  for  a  while, 
feinting  and  parrying  carte  and  tierce,  advancing,  re- 
treating, neither  of  them  willing  to  risk  a  thrust. 

But  at  last,  the  preliminaries  having  given  her  the 
touch  of  her  opponent's  foil,  Nina  returned. 

"  You're  really  the  success  of  the  season,  Jane.  And 
you  know  when  a  back  number  like  I  am  admits  a  thing 
like  that  about  a  debutante,  it's  pretty  apt  to  be  true, 
But  the  thing  I  can't  understand  is  why  you  want  to  end 
it  all  and  marry." 

"  Marry — whom?  " 

"  Coley." 

266 


"  Oh,  you  have  some  private  source  of  information  on 
the  subject?  "  Jane  asked  pleasantly. 

"  None  but  your  own  actions,"  Nina  replied  coolly. 
"  It's  funny,  too,  because  I've  had  an  idea — ever  since 
that  Dryad  story — I've  feared  that  you  were  rather  keen 
on  Phil  Gallatin." 

Nina  was  forced  to  admiration  of  the  carelessness  of 
Jane's  parry. 

"  Mr.  Gallatin !  "  she  said,  her  eyes  wide  with  won- 
der. "What  in  the  world  made  you  think  of  him?  If 
I  was  ever  grateful  to  the  man  for  his  kindness  up  there 
in  the  woods,  every  instinct  in  me  revolted  at  the  memory 
of  what  people  said  of  us.  Do  you  think  I  could  care  for 
a  man  who  would  let  a  thing  like  that  be  told?  "  She 
hesitated  a  moment  and  then  added,  "  Besides,  there  are 
other  reasons  why  Mr.  Gallatin  and  I  could  never  be 
friends." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  Nina  said  slowly,  her  gaze  on  the  fire. 
"  You  know,  I'm  very  fond  of  Phil,  and  though  you  may 
not  approve  of  him,  he's  really  one  of  the  best  fellows 
in  the  world." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  marry  him?  "  said  Jane  care- 
lessly. 

"  Marry !  Me !  "  Nina  laughed  softly  up  at  the  por- 
trait over  the  mantel.  "  Good  Lord,  Jane,  you  want  to 
bridle  me !  No,  thanks.  I've  only  one  life,  you  know,  and 
I  hardly  feel  like  spending  it  on  the  Bridge  of  Sighs.  My 
recording  angel  wouldn't  stand  domestication.  She's  on 
the  point  of  giving  up  the  job  already.  I  suppose  I'll 
have  to  marry  some  day,  but  when  I  do  I'll  select  the 
quiet,  elderly  widower  of  some  capable  person  who  has 
trained  him  properly.  A  well-trained  husband  may  be  a 
dull  blessing,  but  he's  safe.  Not  Phil  Gallatin,  my  dear. 
The  girl  who  marries  Phil  will  have  her  hands  full.  But 

267 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


he's  such  a  dear!  So  solemn,  so  innocent-looking,  as 

though  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth,  and  yet " 

she  paused  and  sighed  audibly. 

Jane  glanced  at  her  and  was  silent. 

"  I've  never  thought  of  Phil  as  a  marrying  man,"  Nina 
went  on.  "The  thing  is  impossible,  and  I'd  very  much 
rather  have  him  as  he  is.  But  it  does  seem  a  pity  about 
him  because  he  has  so  many  virtues — and  he — he  really 
makes  love  like  an  angel." 

"  Does  he  ?  "  asked  Jane,  yawning  politely.  "  But 
.then  so  many  men  do  that." 

"  Yes — I  suppose  so,  but  Phil  is  different  somehow." 

Jane  laughed.  "  Yes,  I  gathered  that — at  the  'Pot 
and  Kettle.'  " 

Nina  glanced  up  and  away.  "You  did  see?  It's  a 
pity.  I'm  sorry.  Quite  imprudent  of  me,  wasn't  it?  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  be  horribly  mortified,  but  I'm  not. 
I've  reached  a  point  where  I'm  quite  hardened  to  people's 
opinions — even  to  yours,  Jane.  But  I  confess  I  was  both- 
ered a  little  about  that.  I  am  glad  you  don't  care  for 
Phil,  because  it  would  have  been  awkward  and  it  might 
have  made  a  difference  in  our  friendship.  You'd  have  been 
sorry,  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

Jane  swallowed.     "  Oh — of  course,  I  would." 

"  But  it  doesn't  matter  now  whether  you  saw  or  not, 
because  I'm  sure  that  you  and  Coley  understand." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  do  understand,"  said  Jane  with 
a  smile  toward  the  cloisonne  j  ar  at  the  window.  "  As  a 
form  of  diversion  I  can't  say  that  kissing  has  ever  ap- 
pealed to  me." 

"  But  then,  you  know,  Jane,  you're  very  young — may 
I  say  verdant?  It's  an  innocent  amusement,  if  consid- 
ered so.  The  harm  of  it  is  in  considering  it  harmful. 
You're  a  hopeless  little  Puritan.  I  can't  see  how  you 

268 


SMOKE   AND   FIRE 


and  I  have  got  along  so  well.  I  suppose  it's  because  we're 
so  different." 

"  Yes,  perhaps  that's  it.  But  I'm  sure  we  wouldn't 
be  nearly  so  friendly  if  we  ever  interfered  with  each 
other." 

"  I'm  glad  we  haven't,  Jane,  darling.  I've  really  got- 
ten into  the  way  of  depending  on  your  friendship.  You 
don't  think  I've  strained  it  a  little  to-day  by  my — er — 
modern  view  of  old  conventions?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  For  a  Puritan  I'm  surprisingly  liberal. 
I  don't  care  at  all  whom  my  friends  kiss — or  why.  It's 
none  of  my  affair.  I'd  hardly  make  it  so  unless  I  was 
asked  to." 

Nina  laid  her  fingers  on  Jane's  arm.  "  But  we  do 
understand  each  other,  don't  we,  Jane?" 

"  Yes,  wonderfully.  I'm  so  glad  that  you  think  it 
worth  while  to  confide  in  me." 

"  I  do.  You're  so  sensible  and  tolerant.  I'm  almost 
too  much  of  a  freethinker  for  most  people,  and  they're 
ready  to  believe  almost  anything  of  me.  But  you  don't 
care  what  they  say,  do  you,  Jane?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  Nina.  It  wouldn't  make  the  slightest 
difference  to  me  what  people  said  of  you." 

And  this  was  the  truth,  perhaps  the  first  truth  in 
fact  or  by  inference  which  either  of  them  had  uttered. 
So  far  so  good.  Honors  were  even.  Each  of  them  was 
aware  that  the  other  was  a  hypocrite,  each  of  them  was 
playing  the  game  of  hide  and  seek,  bringing  into  play 
all  the  arts  of  dissimulation  to  which  the  sex  is  heir.  All 
is  fair  in  love  and  war.  This  was  both.  Under  such  con- 
ditions, to  the  feminine  conscience  anything  is  justifiable. 
Nina  had  begun  the  combat  with  leisurely  assurance; 
Jane,  with  a  contempt  which  fortified  her  against  mishap. 
The  manners  of  each  were  friendly  and  confiding,  their 

269 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


tones  caressing,  but  neither  of  them  deceived  the  other 
and  each  of  them  knew  that  she  didn't.  Nina  had  taken 
the  initiative.  She  had  a  mission  and  in  this  was  at  a 
slight  advantage,  for  Jane  had  not  yet  begun  to  suspect 
what  that  mission  was.  She  had  made  up  her  mind,  fem- 
inine fashion,  not  to  believe  what  Nina  wanted  her  to 
believe;  but  before  long  she  began  to  find  that  Nina  was 
mixing  truth  and  fiction  with  such  skill  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  distinguish  one  from  the  other. 

The  dangers  of  the  social  jungle  develop  remarkable 
perceptions  in  deer  and  bird  of  paradise,  but  these  de- 
fensive instincts  are  not  always  proof  against  the  craft 
of  the  cat  tribe.  If  they  were,  the  cat  tribe  would 
long  since  have  ceased  to  exist  as  a  species.  Other  things 
being  equal,  the  stalker  of  prey  has  all  the  advantage. 
Nina  knew  that  Jane  knew  that  she  was  lying.  So,  to  gain 
her  point,  she  was  prepared  if  necessary  to  use  the  sim- 
ple expedient  of  telling  the  truth. 

Nina  was  leaning  forward,  her  chin  in  her  hand,  her 
gaze  on  the  rug. 

"You've  heard,  I  suppose,  this  story  people  are  tell- 
ing about  Phil  and  me,"  she  said  in  a  lower  tone. 

"  No,"  said  Jane  in  tones  of  curiosity.  "  Is  it  some- 
thing very  dreadful?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is — at  least  people  seem  to  think  it 
so.  It  began  with  an  accident  to  my  motor  and  ended 
at  a  Parlor  Heater." 

"  A  Parlor  Heater !  Do  go  on,  Nina.  I'm  immensely 
interested." 

"  Phil  and  I,  on  the  way  home  from  Egerton's  party, 
you  remember?  He  went  home  in  my  motor.  I  know 
people  thought  it  awfully  rude  of  us  as  the  other  motors 
were  so  crowded — but  it  just  happened  so  and  we  started 
home  alone — after  all  the  others  had  gone.  We  ran  out 

270 


SMOKE   AND   FIRE 


of  oil  and  had  to  put  up  for  the  night  where  we  could. 
Unfortunate  wasn't  it?  We  were  miles  from  nowhere 
and  not  a  gallon  of  gasoline  in  sight.  The  farmer  seemed 
to  think  we  were  suspicious  characters,  but  he  let  us  in 
at  last  to  sit  beside  his  stove  until  morning.  I'm  sure 
he  was  peeping  over  the  balusters  most  of  the  time  to 
be  sure  we  didn't  make  off  with  the  family  Bible."  Nina 
laughed  at  the  recollection,  a  little  more  loudly  than 
seemed  necessary. 

"  Phil  was  very  sweet  about  it  all.  He  was  so  afraid 
of  compromising  me,  poor  fellow.  I  really  felt  very  sorry 
for  him.  The  farmer  wouldn't  volunteer  to  help  us,  so 
Phil  wanted  to  trudge  the  five  miles  through  the  snow  to 
get  the  oil.  But  I  wouldn't  let  him.  I  couldn't,  Jane. 
It  was  frightfully  lonely  there.  The  chauffeur  was  drunk 
and  I  was  afraid." 

"  Y — you  were  quite  right,"  said  Jane  in  a  sup- 
pressed tone. 

Nina  glanced  at  her  and  went  on. 

"  We  sat  all  night  huddled  in  our  furs  on  opposite 
sides  of  that  dreadful  parlor  stove.  I  don't  think  I  can 
ever  forget  it.  I've  never  been  so  miserable  in  my  life — 
never!  We  spoke  to  each  other  in  monosyllables  for 
a  while  and  at  last — er — I  went  to  sleep  in  disgust.  I 
woke  up  with  a  frightful  pain  in  my  back  from  that 
dreadful  chair.  What  a  night !  And  to  think  that  it  was 
for  this — this,  that  Phil  and  I  have  been  talked  about! 
It's  maddening,  Jane.  If  we  only  had  given  them  a 
little  flame,  just  a  tiny  one — for  all  this  smoke!  Poor 
Phil!  He  was  terribly  provoked  about  it  this  morning. 
He  wants  to  kill  that  wretched  chauffeur,  for  of  course 
the  whole  story  came  from  him.  You  know,  Jane,  I  dis- 
charged him  as  soon  as  we  got  back  to  town,  and  this 
was  his  revenge.  Sweet,  wasn't  it?  It  seems  as  if  one 

271 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


was  very  much  at  the  mercy  of  one's  mechanician. 
They're  servants,  of  course,  but  you  can  never  get  them 
to  think  that  they  are.  I  haven't  dared  tell  father.  I 
don't  know  what  he  would  do  about  it.  I'm  afraid ' 

Jane  Loring  had  risen  and  was  looking  out  of  the 
window  into  the  gathering  dusk. 

"What's  the  use,  Nina?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"The  use  of  what?  " 

"  Telling  me  all  this.     I  understand,  I  think." 

"  I  hope  you  do,"  said  Nina  quickly.  "  I  wanted  you 
to.  That's  why  I  told  you." 

She  got  up  and  took  a  few  rapid  paces  forward. 

"  Jane !  "  she  cried  suddenly.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? 
That  I — you  believe — ?  Oh,  how  could  you?  " 

She  stood  a  moment,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands, 
as  though  the  horror  of  it  all  had  just  come  to  her. 

Jane  Loring  faced  around  calmly,  her  face  grave. 

"What  difference  does  it  make  what  I  believe?  "  she 
asked. 

Nina  looked  at  her  a  long  while,  then  dropped  her 
gaze,  turned  away  and  picked  up  her  accessories.  Her 
mission  here  was  ended. 

"  I'm  sorry.  I  seem  to  have  misjudged  you — your 
friendship." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane.     "  I  think  perhaps  you  have." 

Nina  moved  toward  the  door,  and  Jane,  motionless, 
watched  her.  She  did  not  speak  again — nor  did  Jane; 
and  in  a  moment  the  door  closed  between  them — for  the 
last  time. 

Nina  was  smiling  when  she  entered  her  machine,  but 
Jane  climbed  the  stairs  wearily. 


272 


XXIII 

»      THE   MOUSE   AND   THE   LION 

THERE  was  an  activity  in  the  offices  of  Kenyon, 
Hood  and  Gallatin  chiefly  centering  around  the 
doings  of  the  youngest  member  of  the  firm  which 
had  caused  the  methodical  Tooker  some  skeptical  and 
unquiet  moments.  He  had  witnessed  these  spurts  of 
industry  before  and  remembered  that  they  had  always 
presaged  the  bursting  of  a  bubble  and  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  junior  partner  for  a  protracted  pe- 
riod, at  the  end  of  which  he  would  return  to  the 
office,  pale,  nervous  and  depressed.  But  as  the  weeks 
went  by,  far  beyond  the  time  usually  marked  for 
this  event,  Tooker  began  to  realize  that  something  un- 
usual had  happened.  The  chief  clerk  could  hardly  be 
called  an  observant  man,  for  his  business  in  life  kept  him 
in  a  narrow  groove,  but  he  awoke  one  morning  to  the 
discovery  that  a  remarkable  change  had  taken  place  in 
the  manner  and  bearing  of  Mr.  Gallatin.  There  were 
none  of  those  fidgety  movements  of  the  fingers,  that  quick 
and  sometimes  overbearing  speech,  or  the  habit  Mr.  Gal- 
latin had  had  (as  his  father  had  had  it  before  him) 
of  pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  of  his  room,  his  hands 
behind  his  back,  his  brows  bent  over  sullen  eyes.  Mr. 
Gallatin's  manner  and  speech  were  quieter,  his  gaze  more 
direct  and  more  lasting.  He  smiled  more,  and  his  ca- 
pacity for  work  seemed  unlimited.  Tooker  waited  for 
a  long  while,  and  then  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a 

273 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


new  order  of  things  had  begun  and  that  the  junior  part- 
ner had  found  himself. 

There  had  been  frequent  important  conferences  in 
Mr.  Kenyon's  office  between  the  partners  during  which 
Philip  Gallatin  had  advised  the  firm  of  the  progress  of 
the  Sanborn  case,  but  it  was  clear  that  for  the  present 
at  least  the  junior  partner  dominated  the  situation.  All 
his  life  Tooker  had  been  accustomed  to  follow  in  the 
footsteps  of  others,  and  was  prepared  to  follow  Gallatin 
gladly,  if  the  junior  partner  would  give  him  footsteps 
to  follow.  And  he  was  now  beginning  to  appreciate  the 
significance  of  those  long  visits  of  Mr.  Gallatin  in  Penn- 
sylvania, and  the  infinite  care  and  study  with  which  Gal- 
latin had  fortified  himself.  He  understood,  too,  what 
those  piles  of  documents  on  Mr.  Gallatin's  desk  were  for, 
and  in  the  conferences  of  the  firm,  when  John  Kenyon's 
incisive  voice  cut  in,  he  realized  that  it  was  more  often  in 
encouragement,  advice,  and  appreciation,  than  in  conten- 
tion or  argument. 

The  Sanborn  Company's  directors  were  represented 
by  the  firm  of  Whitehead,  Leuppold,  Tyson  and  Leuppold. 
This  was  one  of  the  firms  previously  mentioned  which  had 
offices  upon  an  upper  floor  and  included  among  its  clients 
many  large  corporations  closely  identified  with  "  The  In- 
terests." A  correspondence  had  been  passing  between  Mr. 
Gallatin  and  Mr.  Leuppold  with  all  of  which  Tooker  was 
familiar.  Mr.  Gallatin's  early  letters  stated  that  he 
hoped  for  a  conference  with  Mr.  Loring.  Mr.  Leuppold's 
first  replies  were  couched  in  polite  formulas,  the  equiva- 
lent of  which  was,  in  plain  English,  that  Mr.  Gallatin 
might  go  to  the  devil,  saying  that  Mr.  Loring  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  matter.  Mr.  Gallatin's  reply  ignored 
this  suggestion,  and  again  proposed  a  conference.  Mr. 
Leuppold  refused  in  abrupt  terms.  Mr.  Gallatin  gave 

274 


THE   MOUSE   AND    THE   LION 

reasons  for  his  request.  Mr.  Leuppold  couldn't  see  them. 
Mr.  Gallatin  patiently  gave  other  reasons.  Mr.  Leuppold 
ignored  this  letter.  Mr.  Gallatin  wrote  another.  Mr. 
Leuppold  in  reply  considered  the  matter  closed.  Mr.  Gal- 
latin considered  the  matter  just  opened.  Mr.  Leuppold 
fulminated  politely  and  satirically  suggested  intimidation. 
Mr.  Gallatin  regretted  Mr.  Leuppold's  implication  but 
persisted,  giving,  as  his  reasons,  the  discovery  of  material 
evidence. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Leuppold  came  in  person,  was 
shown  into  Mr.  Gallatin's  office  and  Tooker  had  been  pres- 
ent at  the  interview.  It  had  been  a  memorable  occasion. 
Mr.  Leuppold  wore  that  suave  and  confident  manner  for 
which  he  was  noted  and  Gallatin  received  him  with  an  old- 
fashioned  courtesy  and  the  deference  of  a  younger  man  for 
an  older,  which  left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Accepting  this 
as  his  due,  Leuppold  began  in  a  fatherly  way  to  impress 
upon  Gallatin  the  utter  futility  of  trying  to  win  the  in- 
junction in  the  Court  of  Appeals.  The  contentions  of 
Sanborn  et  al.  had  no  basis  either  in  law  or  in  equity.  Mr. 
Gallatin  had  doubtless  been  unduly  influenced  by  doubtful 
precedents.  He,  Leuppold,  was  familiar  with  every  phase 
of  the  case  and  had  defended  the  previous  suit  which  had 
been  brought  and  lost  by  a  legal  firm  in  Philadelphia. 
There  was  absolutely  nothing  in  Mr.  Gallatin's  position 
as  stated  in  his  correspondence  and  he  concluded  by  re- 
ferring "  his  young  friend"  to  certain  marked  passages 
in  a  volume  which  he  had  brought  in  under  his  arm.  Gal- 
latin read  the  passages  through  with  interest  and  listened 
with  a  show  of  great  seriousness  to  Mr.  Leuppold's  inter- 
pretation of  them.  Mr.  Leuppold  had  a  mien  which  com- 
manded attention.  Gallatin  gave  it,  but  he  said  little  in 
reply  which  could  indicate  his  possible  ground  of  action, 
except  to  express  regret  that  Mr.  Leuppold's  clients  had 

275 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


taken  such  an  intolerant  view  of  his  own  client's  claims 
and  to  deplore  the  unfortunate  tone  of  Mr.  Leuppold's 
own  letter  of  some  days  ago. 

When  it  was  quite  clear  to  Mr.  Leuppold  that  the 
young  man  was  not  to  be  moved  by  persuasion,  his  manner 
changed. 

"  I  have  done  my  best,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  he  said  irritably, 
"  to  prove  to  you  the  utter  futility  of  your  course.  My 
clients  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  am  only  trying  to  save 
them  the  expense  of  further  litigation.  But  if  you  insist 
on  bringing  this  case  to  trial,  we  will  welcome  the  oppor- 
tunity to  show  further  evidence  in  our  possession.  We 
have  been  content  for  the  sake  of  peace  to  let  matters 
go  on  as  they  have  been  going,  but  if  this  suit  is  pressed, 
I  warn  you  that  it  will  be  unfortunate  for  your  clients." 

"  I  hope  not.  I  hope  we  won't  have  to  bring  suit," 
replied  Gallatin  easily.  "  I'm  only  asking  for  a  confer- 
ence of  all  the  parties  interested,  Mr.  Leuppold.  That 
certainly  is  little  enough,  an  amicable  conference,  a  dis- 
cussion— if  you  like " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  discuss." 

"  I  beg  to  differ.  Leaving  aside  for  a  moment  the 
question  of  the  new  evidence  in  the  Sanborn  case,  do  you 
think  that  Mr.  Loring,  who  controls  its  stock,  would  care 
to  have  his  connection  with  the  Lehigh  and  Pottsville  Rail- 
road Company  brought  into  court?  " 

Mr.  Leuppold  gasped.  He  couldn't  help  it.  How  and 
where  had  this  polite  but  surprising  young  man  obtained 
this  information,  which  no  member  of  his  own  firm  besides 
himself  possessed.  It  was  uncanny.  Was  this  the  fellow 
they  had  talked  about  and  smiled  over  upstairs?  Mr. 
Leuppold  took  to  cover  skillfully,  hiding  his  uneasiness 
under  a  bland  smile. 

"  You're  dreaming,  sir,"  he  said. 

276 


THE   MOUSE   AND    THE   LION 

Gallatin  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  I'm  not  dreaming." 

Gallatin  rose  and  took  a  few  paces  up  and  down  the 
room.  "  See  here,  Mr.  Leuppold,  I'm  not  prepared  to 
discuss  the  matter  further  now.  I've  asked  you  for  a  con- 
ference and  you  call  my  request  intimidation — which 
might  mean  a  much  uglier  thing.  You've  treated  my  cor- 
respondence in  a  casual  way  and  you've  patronized  me  in 
my  own  office.  I've  kept  my  temper  pretty  well,  and  I'm 
keeping  it  still;  but  I  warn  you  that  you  have  been  and 
still  are  making  a  mistake.  I've  asked  for  a  conference 
because  I  believe  this  matter  can  be  settled  out  of  court, 
and  because  I  didn't  think  it  fair  to  your  client  to  go  to 
court  without  giving  him  a  chance  to  save  himself.  We 
have  no  desire  to  enter  into  a  long  and  expensive  litiga- 
tion, but  we  are  prepared  to  do  so  and  will  take  the  pre- 
liminary steps  at  once,  unless  we  have  some  immediate  con- 
sideration of  our  claims.  If  you  stand  suit  on  this  appeal 
you  will  lose,  and  I  fancy  the  evidence  presented  will  be 
of  such  character  that  you  will  not  care  to  take  the  matter 
further.  Don't  reply  now,  Mr.  Leuppold.  Think  it  over 
and  let  me  hear  from  you  in  writing." 

Mr.  Leuppold  had  not  moved.  He  was  watching  Gal- 
latin keenly  from  under  his  beetling  brows.  Was  this 
mere  guess  work?  WThat  did  the  young  man  really  know? 
What  evidence  had  he?  Was  it  a  bluff?  If  so,  he  made  it 
in  tones  with  which  Leuppold  was  unfamiliar.  But  it  was 
no  time  to  back  water  now.  He  smiled  approvingly  at 
Phil  Gallatin's  inkwell. 

"Mr.  Gallatin,  your  imagination  does  you  credit.  A 
good  lawyer  must  have  intuition.  But  he's  got  to  have 
discretion,  too.  You  think,  because  the  interests  we  rep- 
resent are  wealthy  ones,  that  you  can  throw  a  stick  in  our 
direction  and  be  sure  of  hitting  something.  Unfortunately 

277 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


you  have  been  misinformed — on  all  points.  Mr.  Loring 
has  voluntarily  submitted  his  holdings  in  Pennsylvania  to 
investigation.  You  can  never  prove  any  connection  be- 
tween the  Pequot  Coal  Company  and  the  Lehigh  and 
Pottsville  Railroad.  There  is  none." 

He  rose  pompously  and  took  up  his  hat  and  books. 

"  There  isn't  any  use  in  our  talking  over  this  case. 
It  will  lead  us  nowhere.  But  I'll  promise  you  if  you'll 
put  your  proposition  in  writing  to  submit  it  to  careful 
consideration." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Gallatin  dryly.  He  picked  a  large 
envelope  up  from  the  table  and  handed  it  to  his  visitor. 
"  I  have  already  done  so.  Will  you  take  it  with  you  or 
shaU  I  mail  it?  " 

"  I — you  may  give  it  to  me,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

Gallatin  walked  to  the  outer  door  and  politely  bowed 
him  out,  while  Tooker,  his  thin  frame  writhing  with 
ecstasy,  fussed  with  some  papers  on  the  big  table  in  the 
junior  partner's  office  until  he  was  more  composed,  and 
then  went  on  about  his  daily  routine.  He  realized  now  for 
the  first  time  the  full  stature  of  the  junior  partner.  In 
a  night,  it  almost  seemed  to  Tooker,  he  had  outgrown  his 
boyhood,  his  brilliant  wayward  boyhood  that  had  promised 
so  much  and  achieved  so  little.  He  was  like  his  father 
now,  but  there  was  a  difference.  Philip  Gallatin,  the 
elder,  he  remembered,  had  dominated  his  office  by  the  mere 
force  of  his  intellect.  He  had  directed  the  preparation  of 
his  cases  with  an  unerring  legal  sense  and  he  had  won  them 
through  his  mastery  of  detail  and  the  elimination  of  the 
unessential.  But  it  was  when  presenting  his  case  to  a 
jury  that  he  was  at  his  strongest,  for  such  was  the  per- 
sonal quality  of  his  magnetism  that  jurors  were  willing 
to  be  convinced  less  by  the  value  of  his  cause  than  by  the 
magic  of  his  sophistry.  But  to  Tooker,  who  was  little 

278 


THE   MOUSE   AND    THE   LION 

more  than  a  piece  of  legal  machinery,  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  methods  of  the  son  which  compensated  for 
the  more  spectacular  talents  of  the  father,  the  painstaking 
and  diligent  way  in  which  Gallatin  had  planned  and  car- 
ried out  his  present  investigations  and  the  confidence  with 
which  he  was  putting  his  information  to  use.  It  was  clear 
to  Tooker  that  Leuppold  had  been  unprepared  for  Philip 
Gallatin's  revelations.  Even  now  Tooker  doubted  the 
wisdom  of  them,  for  Mr.  Leuppold  would  not  be  slow  to 
take  advantage  of  his  information  and  to  cover  the  traces 
left  by  his  clients  as  well  as  he  might.  But  when  he  spoke 
of  it  to  Gallatin,  the  junior  partner  had  laughed. 

"  Don't  you  bother,  old  man.  Wait  a  while.  We'll 
hear  from  Mr.  Leuppold  very  soon — before  the  week  is 
out,  I  think." 

In  the  offices  upstairs,  Mr.  Leuppold's  return  was  the 
signal  for  an  immediate  consultation  of  the  entire  firm, 
which  would  have  flattered  and  encouraged  Philip  Gallatin 
had  he  been  aware  of  it.  Mr.  Tyson  and  Mr.  Whitehead 
discovered  in  Mr.  Leuppold's  account  of  the  interview 
undue  cause  for  alarm.  They  were  themselves  adepts  in 
the  game  Mr.  Gallatin  was  evidently  playing  and  could  be 
depended  upon  at  the  proper  moment  to  out-maneuver 
him.  Mr.  Leuppold  disagreed  and  was  forced  to  admit 
the  weakness  of  Mr.  Loring's  position,  if,  as  he  suspected, 
Mr.  Gallatin  had  succeeded  in  fortifying  himself  with  the 
proper  evidence.  The  stock  was,  of  course,  not  in  Mr. 
Loring's  name,  but  a  man  of  resource  might  have  been  able 
to  find  means  to  establish  a  legal  connection  of  the  mine 
with  the  railroad.  Mr.  Leuppold's  opinions  usually  bore 
weight,  but  just  now  he  seemed  to  have  no  definite  opin- 
ions. 

The  conference  of  the  partners  lasted  until  late  in  the 
afternoon,  during  which  time  messengers  came  and  went 

279 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


between  the  firm's  offices  and  those  of  the  Pequot  Coal 
Company  and  that  of  the  President  of  the  L.  and  P. 
Henry  K.  Loring  was  out  of  town  and  would  not  return 
until  the  end  of  the  week.  A  wire  was  sent  to  him  to  re- 
turn to  New  York  at  once,  and  it  was  decided  thr.t  no 
reply  to  Mr.  Gallatin's  letter  should  be  sent  until  Mr. 
Loring  had  been  advised. 

Phil  Gallatin,  in  high  good  humor,  lunched  that  morn- 
ing with  the  senior  partner  at  a  fashionable  restaurant  up- 
town. His  work  on  the  Sanborn  case  was  finished.  He 
had  been  at  it  very  hard  for  two  months,  and  the  two 
of  them  had  planned  to  spend  the  afternoon  and  follow- 
ing day  up  at  John  Kenyon's  farm  in  Westchester,  where 
they  would  do  some  riding,  some  walking  and  some  rest- 
ing, of  which  both  were  in  need.  The  lunch  was  a  pre- 
liminary luxury  and  they  found  a  table  in  a  corner  on  the 
Avenue  and  ordered. 

There  was  no  talk  of  office  matters.  John  Kenyon  had 
been  thoroughly  advised  of  Phil's  work  and  knew  that 
there  was  nothing  in  the  way  of  suggestion  or  advice 
that  he  could  offer.  He  had  noticed  for  some  days  the 
gaunt  look  in  his  young  partner's  face.  There  were  indi- 
cations of  his  growing  maturity  and  shadows  of  the 
struggle  through  which  he  had  passed,  but  there  were 
marks  which  John  Kenyon  knew  belonged  to  a  different 
kind  of  trouble.  Gallatin  had  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened in  the  woods  and  Kenyon  had  learned  something 
of  Phil's  romance  in  New  York.  But  Kenyon  was  not 
given  to  idle  or  curious  questioning,  and  he  knew  that 
when  Phil  was  ready  to  speak  of  private  matters  he  would 
do  so. 

Their  oysters  had  been  served  and  their  planked  fish 
brought  when  a  fashionable  party  entered  and  was  con- 
ducted by  the  head  waiter  to  an  adjoining  table  which 

280 


THE   MOUSE   AND    THE  LION 

had  been  decorated  for  the  occasion.  Mrs.  Pennington 
led  the  way,  followed  by  Miss  Ledyard,  Mrs.  Perrine  and 
Miss  Loring.  Behind  them  followed  Ogden  Spencer, 
Bibby  Worthington,  Colonel  Broadhurst  and  Coleman 
Van  Duyn,  who  was,  it  appeared,  the  host. 

Phil  had  hoped  that  his  presence  might  pass  unnoticed ; 
but  Nellie  Pennington  espied  him  and  nodded  gayly,  so 
that  he  had  to  rise  and  greet  her.  This  drew  the  eyes 
of  others  and  when  the  party  was  seated  he  discovered 
that  Miss  Loring,  on  Van  Duyn's  right,  was  seated  facing 
him  and  that  her  eyes  after  one  blank  look  in  his  direction 
were  assiduously  turned  elsewhere.  John  Kenyon  caught 
the  change  in  Gallatin's  expression,  but  in  a  moment  Phil 
had  resumed  their  conversation  upon  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  Delaware  River  and  Potomac  River  shad,  and 
their  luncheon  went  on  to  its  conclusion.  But  the  spirits 
of  John  Kenyon's  guest  had  fallen,  and  Kenyon's  most 
persuasive  stories  failed  to  find  a  response.  In  spite  of 
himself  Phil  Gallatin  found  himself  looking  at  Jane  and 
thinking  of  Arcadia.  It  was  three  weeks  now  since  that 
much  to  be  remembered  and  regretted  interview  at  the 
Loring  house  had  taken  place.  The  glance  he  stole  at 
Jane  assured  him  that  if  he  had  ever  had  a  hope  of  recon- 
ciliation, the  chances  for  it  were  now  more  remote  than 
ever.  She  wore  a  huge  hat  which  screened  her  effectually, 
and  the  glimpses  he  had  of  her  face  showed  it  dimpling  in 
smiles  for  Coleman  Van  Duyn  or  Bibby  Worthington,  who 
sat  on  either  side  of  her.  When  their  eyes  had  first  met 
he  had  thought  her  pale,  but  as  the  moments  passed  a 
warm  color  mounted  her  cheeks.  It  seemed  to  Gallatin 
that  never  before  within  his  memory  had  she  ever  appeared 
so  care-free.  She  was  youth  untrammeled,  a  sister  to 
Euphrosyne,  the  spirit  of  joy.  It  seemed  as  if  she  realized 
that  the  grim  specter  which  had  stolen  into  her  life  for  a 

281 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


while  had  been  exorcised  away,  and  that  she  had  already 
forgotten  it  in  the  beckoning  of  the  jocund  hours.  Phil 
Gallatin  had  come  into  her  life  and  gone,  leaving  no  trace 
in  her  mind  or  in  her  heart. 

After  this  their  eyes  met  but  once.  He  was  looking  at 
her,  thinking  of  these  things,  oblivious  of  what  John  Ken- 
yon  was  saying,  unaware  of  the  intentness  of  his  gaze, 
which  at  last  compelled  her  to  look  in  his  direction.  It 
was  a  startled  glance  that  she  gave  him,  wide-eyed,  almost 
fearful,  as  though  he  had  challenged  her  to  this  silent 
combat.  Then  her  lids  lowered  insolently,  her  chin  lifted 
and  she  turned  aside. 

Their  coffee  had  been  served.  Phil  gulped  his  down 
hastily.  "  Come,  Uncle  John,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  Let's 
get  out  of  this,  will  you?  " 

John  Kenyon  paid  the  check  and  they  rose.  Unfor- 
tunately the  only  path  to  the  door  lay  by  Mr.  Van  Duyn's 
table,  and  as  Gallatin  passed,  nodding  to  his  acquaint- 
ances, Mrs.  Pennington  got  up  and  stood  in  front  of  him. 

"  I  do  so  want  to  see  you  for  a  moment,  Phil.  Will 
you  excuse  me,  Coley?  "  she  said,  and  led  the  way  into  a 
room  where  she  found  an  unoccupied  corner.  John  Ken- 
yon  went  elsewhere  to  smoke  his  cigar. 

"Oh,  Phil!"  she  whispered.  "Why  wouldn't  you 
come  to  see  me?  I've  had  so  much  to  talk  to  you  about." 

"  I — I've  been  very  busy,  Nellie.  I  haven't  been  any- 
where." 

"  My  house  isn't '  anywhere.'  I  want  to  talk  to  you — 
you  know  what  I  mean." 

"  It  won't  do  any  good,  Nellie,"  he  muttered.  "  There 
isn't  anything  more  to  be  said." 

"  Perhaps  not — but  I  want  to  say  it  just  the  same.  I 
want  you  to  promise " 

282 


"  I  can't,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "  Don't  ask  me  to  come 
and  talk  to  you — about  that." 

"  Well,  then,  come  and  talk  to  me  about  other  things." 

"  I  can't.  If  I  come  I  must  talk  about  what  you 
remind  me  of." 

She  hesitated,  looking  at  him  critically. 

"  Phil,  you're  an  idiot,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Thanks,"  he  replied,  "  I'm  aware  of  it." 

"  Are  you  going  to  give  up  ?  " 

"  I've  given  up." 

Nellie  Pennington  shrugged.  "  For  good?  You're 
going  to  let — Oh,  I've  no  patience  with  you." 

"  I'm  sorry.  You  did  what  you  could  and  I'm  thank- 
ful. Don't  think  I'm  ungrateful.  I'm  not.  One  of  these 
days  I'll  prove  it.  You  did  a  lot.  I'm  awake,  Nellie. 
You  woke  me  and  I'm  not  going  to  sleep  again." 

"  I'm  proud  of  you,  Phil,  but  you're  not  awake — not 
really  awake  or  you  couldn't  sit  by  and  see  the  girl  you 
love  forced  into  an  engagement  with  a  man  she  doesn't 
care  for." 

Gallatin  flushed. 

"  Is  that —  "  he  asked  slowly,  "  is  that  what  this — 
this  luncheon  means  ?  " 

"  Judge  for  yourself.  He  is  with  her  always.  And 
they've  even  rebelled  against  my  chaperonage.  Their  lela- 
tions  are  talked  of  freely  in  Jane's  presence  and  she 
laughs  acquiescence.  Imagine  it !  " 

Gallatin  turned  away. 

"  I — I  have  no  further  interest  in — in  Miss  Loring," 
he  said  quietly. 

"  Well,  /  have.  And  I'm  not  going  to  let  her  make  a 
fool  of  herself  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Miss  Loring  will  probably  not  agree  with  you." 
283 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"I  hardly  expect  her  to."  She  hesitated.  "Phil," 
she  asked  at  last. 

"  What,  Nellie?  " 

"Will  you  answer  a  question?" 

"What?" 

"  Was  this  story  they're  telling  about  you  and  Nina 
mentioned?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

"  I  thought  so,"  triumphantly.  "  Phil  we  must  talk 
this  thing  out." 

"  It  can  do  no  good " 

"  And  no  harm.  There's  been  a  mistake  somewhere — 
something  neither  you  nor  I  understand."  She  stopped 
and  tapped  her  forehead  with  her  index  finger.  "  I  can't 
tell  what — but  I  sense  it — here.  Something  has  gone 
wrong — what,  I  don't  know.  I've  got  to  think  about  it." 

"  Yes — it's  gone  wrong — and  it  can't  be  righted." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  she  said  rising.  "  But  I  do  want  you 
to  come  to  see  me.  Won't  you?  " 

"You're  very  persistent,  aren't  you?  Very  well,  I'll 
come." 

"  I  must  go  now.  Coley  will  be  furious.  I  hope  so, 
at  any  rate." 

She  smiled  at  him  again  and  went  back  to  her  lunch- 
eon party  while  Gallatin  found  John  Kenyon  and  drove 
to  the  Grand  Central  station. 


284 


XXIV 

DIAMOND    CUT    DIAMOND 

IT  was  the  middle  of  March,  and  fashionable  New  York, 
having  been  at  least  twice  through  its  winter  ward- 
robe, had  gone  southward  for  a  change  of  speed. 
Aiken,  Jekyl  Island  and  Palm  Beach  had  all  done  their 
share  in  the  midwinter  rejuvenation,  but  the  particular 
set  of  people  with  which  this  story  concerns  itself  were 
spending  the  last  days  of  the  Lenten  season  at  the  Dorsey- 
Martin's  place  in  Virginia. 

Dorsey-Martin  was  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  Alnas- 
char,  but  unlike  the  unfortunate  brother  of  the  barber, 
had  not  smashed  the  glassware  in  his  basket  until  he  had 
sold  it  to  somebody  else,  when  he  was  enabled  to  buy  it  in 
again  at  a  much  reduced  rate.  His  particular  specialty 
was  not  glassware,  but  railroads  which,  while  equally 
fragile,  could  be  put  together  again  and  be  made  (to  all 
appearances)  as  good  as  new. 

The  fruits  of  this  fortunate  talent  were  in  evidence 
in  his  well-appointed  house  in  New  York  with  its  col- 
lection of  old  English  portraits,  his  palace  at  Newport 
just  finished,  and  in  his  "  shooting  place  "  in  Virginia. 

The  Dorsey-Martins  had  "  arrived."  They  had  been 
ten  years  in  transit,  and  their  ways  had  been  devious,  but 
their  present  welcome  more  than  compensated  for  the 
pains  and  money  which  had  been  spent  in  the  pilgrimage. 
The  Virginia  place,  "  Clovelly "  adjoined  that  of  the 
•Ledyards,  and  consisted  of  a  thousand  acres  of  preserved 
woodland  and  dale,  within  a  night's  journey  of  New  York. 

285 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Autumn,  of  course,  was  the  season  when  "  Clovelly  "  was 
most  in  use,  but  spring  frequently  found  it  the  scene  of 
gay  gatherings  such  as  the  present  one,  for  in  addition 
to  the  squash  courts  and  swimming  pool  there  was  court 
tennis,  with  a  marker  constantly  in  attendance,  a  good 
stable,  and  hospitable  neighbors. 

It  was  Nellie  Pennington  who  had  prevailed  upon  Phil 
Gallatin  to  accept  Mrs.  Dorsey-Martin's  invitation,  for 
she  knew  that  Jane  Loring  was  staying  at  "  Mob j  ack," 
the  Ledyards'  place,  and  she  hoped  that  she  might  yet  be 
the  means  of  bringing  the  two  together.  Her  interview 
with  Phil  had  been  barren  of  results,  except  to  confirm 
her  in  the  suspicion  that  Nina  Jaffray  held  the  key  to  the 
puzzle.  Nina,  who  had  been  one  of  the  early  arrivals  at 
"  Clovelly,"  had  so  far  eluded  all  her  snares ;  and  Nellie 
Pennington  was  now  convinced  that  here  was  a  foeman 
worthy  of  her  subtlest  metal.  She  enjoyed  the  game  huge- 
ly, as,  apparently,  did  Nina,  and  their  passages  at  arms 
were  as  skillful  (and  as  ineffectual)  as  those  of  two  per- 
fectly matched  maitres  d'escrime.  Nina  knew  that  Nellie 
Pennington  suspected  her  of  mischief,  but  she  also  knew 
that  it  was  unlikely  that  any  one  would  ever  know,  unless 
from  Jane,  just  what  that  mischief  had  been. 

The  arrival  of  Phil  Gallatin,  while  it  gave  Nina  happi- 
ness, made  her  keep  a  narrower  guard  against  the  verbal 
thrusts  of  her  playful  adversary. 

Phil  Gallatin  had  regained  his  poise  and  reached  "  Clo- 
velly "  in  a  jubilant  frame  of  mind.  Two  days  ago  Henry 
K.  Loring  had  agreed  to  a  conference. 

Mr.  Leuppold,  more  suave,  more  benign,  more  patron- 
izing than  ever,  had  called  and  told  Gallatin  of  this  note- 
worthy act  of  condescension  on  the  part  of  his  client. 
Nothing,  of  course,  need  be  expected  from  such  a  meeting 
in  the  way  of  concessions,  but  men  of  the  world  like  Mr. 

286 


Leuppold  and  Mr.  Gallatin  knew  that  co-operation  was, 
after  all,  the  soul  of  business,  and  that  one  caught  many 
more  flies  with  treacle  than  with  vinegar. 

He  continued  for  half  an  hour  in  this  vein,  platitudi- 
nizing  and  begging  the  question  at  issue  while  Gallatin 
listened  and  assented  politely,  without  giving  any  further 
intimation  of  a  course  of  action  for  Kenyon,  Hood  and 
Gallatin.  But  when  the  great  lawyer  had  departed,  Gal- 
latin went  to  the  window  and  surveyed  the  steel  gray 
waters  of  the  Hudson  with  a  gleaming  eye,  and  his  face 
wore  a  smile  which  would  not  depart.  Sanborn's  case 
would  never  go  to  court. 

The  vestiges  of  this  good  humor  still  remained  upon 
his  face  and  in  his  demeanor  all  the  morning,  which  had 
been  spent  in  a  run  with  the  Warrenton  pack.  It  was 
so  long  since  he  had  ridden  to  hounds  that  he  had  almost 
forgotten  the  joy  of  it,  but  he  was  well  mounted  and  fin- 
ished creditably.  Nina  Jaffray  showed  the  field  her  heels 
for  most  of  the  way  and  Gallatin  pounded  after  her,  his 
muscles  aching,  determined  not  to  be  outridden  by  a 
woman. 

In  the  first  check,  she  drew  her  horse  alongside  of  his 
and  smiled  at  him. 

"  Ready  to  let  me  announce  it  yet,  Phil?  "  she  asked. 

Gallatin  just  then  was  wondering  whether  his  leg  grip 
would  last  out  the  day. 

"  Announce  what,  Nina?  "  he  asked. 

"  Our  engagement,"  she  returned  with  a  smile.  "  It's 
almost  time,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  go  as  far  as  you  like." 

"Don't  laugh f" 

"  I've  got  to — you  make  me  so  happy." 

"  Oh,  you  can  joke  if  you  like  now,  but  you'll  have  to 
marry  me  some  day." 

287 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"Oh,  will  I?    Why?" 

"  Because  you  like  me.  Friendship  subdues  even  Time, 
Phil.  I'm  willing  to  wait." 

And  when  he  looked  at  her,  at  loss  for  a  reply,  the 
hounds  gave  tongue  again  and  they  were  off  at  a  full 
gallop.  He  couldn't  help  admiring  her  this  morning. 
The  easy  unconventionality  of  her  speech,  her  attitude  of 
good  fellowship,  were  a  part  of  the  setting.  This  was  the 
scene  in  which  she  always  appeared  to  the  best  advantage 
and  she  took  the  center  of  the  stage  with  an  assurance 
which  showed  how  well  she  knew  her  lines. 

It  was  Nina's  brush,  of  course,  for  she  had  brought 
down  her  own  best  hunter  for  the  occasion  and  was  in  at 
the  death  with  the  Huntsman  and  Master  of  the  Hounds, 
while  Gallatin  trailed  in  with  the  Field.  And  in  the  ride 
homeward  Phil  found  himself  jogging  along  comfortablj 
at  Nina's  side. 

"  Phil,"  she  said  again,  when  the  others  Had  ridden  on 
ahead.  "  I  hope  you  won't  laugh  at  me  any  more.  It's 
indecent.  I  never  laugh  at  you." 

"  Oh,  don't  you?     You're  never  doing  anything  else." 

"  It  seems  so,  doesn't  it?  That's  my  pose,  Phil.  I'm 
really  very  much  in  earnest  about  things.  I  don't  suppose 
I  ever  could  learn  to  love  anybody — the  faculty  is  lack- 
ing, somehow ;  but  I  think  you  know  that,  even  if  I  didn't 
love  you,  I'd  never  love  any  one  else,  whatever  happened, 
and  I'd  be  true  as  Death." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.     But " 

"  But—?  "  she  repeated. 

"  But — I'm  not  going  to  marry,"  he  laughed. 

She  shrugged. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will — some  day." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so?  " 

"  Because  men  of  your  type  always  do." 
288 


^DIAMOND   CUT  DIAMOND 

"  My  type?  " 

"  Yes,  they  usually  marry  late  and  beneath  them.  I'm 
trying  to  save  you  from  that  mistake." 

He  smiled  at  her  saucy  profile. 

"  Marrying  one's  equal  doesn't  always  mean  equality." 

"  You  were  always  a  dreamer,  Phil." 

61 1  think  I'll  always  dream  then,  Nina,"  he  broke  in 
abruptly.  "  Don't  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  that 
you've  got  to  marry  somebody — anybody — just  because 
you've  reached  the  marriageable  age.  That's  the  trap 
that  catches  most  of  us.  Marry  for  love,  Nina.  You've 
got  that  much  capital  to  begin  on.  Love  doesn't  die  a 
sudden  death." 

"  Not  unless  it's  killed.    That  happens,  you  know." 

"  You  can't  kill  it  easily.  You  may  scoff  at  it,  deny 
it,  wound  it,  but  it  doesn't  die,  Nina." 

She  turned  and  examined  him  narrowly,  then  shifted 
her  bridle  to  the  other  hand  and  ran  her  crop  along  her 
horse's  neck. 

"  You  know,  Jane  Loring  is  going  to  marry  Coley." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  what  we're  talking 
about  ?  "  he  said  quickly. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Only  I  thought  you'd  like  to  know 
it.  You'll  have  a  chance  to  congratulate  them  to- 
night." 

"To-night?     Where?" 

"  They're  at  the  Ledyards',  but  they're  dining  at 
«  Clovelly.'  " 

"Oh!" 

"  So,  if  you're  going  to  put  them  asunder,  you'd  better 
(do  it  to-night  or  forever  hold  your  peace." 

He  smiled  around  at  her  calmly. 

"  Nothing  doing,  Nina.  You  missed  it  that  time. 
The  only  things  I'm  putting  asunder  are  a  railroad  and 

289 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


an  omnivorous  coal  company.  That  takes  about  all  my 
energy." 

"  Phil,"  she  put  in  thoughtfully  after  a  moment. 

"What?" 

"  What's  the  use  of  waiting?  You're  going  to  marry 
me  in  the  end,  you  know." 

"Oh,  ami?" 

"  Yes.  You  can't  afford  to  refuse.  I've  got  the 
money,  position,  and  father  has  influence.  That  means 
power  for  a  man  of  your  ability.  You're  getting  am- 
bitious. I  can  tell  that  by  the  way  you're  sticking  at 
thingsl  There's  no  telling  what  you  mightn't  accomplish 
with  the  help  I  can  bring  you.  Oh,  you  could  get  along 
alone,  of  course.  But  you'd  waste  a  lot  of  time.  You'd 
better  think  about  it  seriously." 

"  I  have  thought  about  it.  I'm  really  beginning  to 
believe  you  mean  it." 

"  Yes,  I  do  mean  it.  I've  decided  to  marry  you. 
And  you  know  I've  never  yet  failed  at  anything  I've  un- 
dertaken." 

She  was  quite  in  earnest  and  he  looked  at  her 
amusedly. 

"  Then  I  suppose  I'd  better  surrender  at  discretion." 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  you  had." 

"  Isn't  there  a  loophole?  " 

"  None,  whatever.  I'm  your  super-man,  Phil.  You 
might  just  as  well  go  at  once  and  order  your  wedding 
garments  and  the  ring.  It  will  save  us  endless  discussions 
— and  you  know  I  hate  discussions.  They're  really  very 
wearing.  Besides,  O  Phil !  " — She  laid  the  end  of  her  crop 
on  his  arm — "  just  think  what  a  lot  of  fun  you'll  get  out 
of  letting  Jane  know  how  little  you  care !  " 

Gallatin  didn't  reply  and  in  a  moment  they  had 
290 


reached  the  stables  of  "  Clovelly  "  where  the  others  were 
dismounting. 

In  his  room,  to  which  he  had  gone  in  search  of  his 
pipe,  Gallatin  paused  at  the  window,  looking  out  over 
the  winter  landscape,  thinking.  Why  not?  Why 
shouldn't  he  marry  her?  It  would  be  a  cold-blooded  busi- 
ness, of  course,  but  he  called  to  mind  a  dozen  marriages 
of  reason  that  had  turned  out  satisfactorily,  and  as  many 
marriages  for  love  which  had  ended  in  the  ditch.  This 
life  was  a  pleasant  kind  of  poison,  the  luxury  and  ease, 
the  careless  gayety  of  these  pleasant  people  who  moved 
along  the  line  of  least  resistance,  taking  from  life  only 
what  suited  their  moods,  living  only  for  the  moment,  sure 
that  the  future  was  amply  provided  for.  He  had  turned 
his  back  on  this  world  for  a  while,  and  had  lived  in  an- 
other, a  sterner  world,  with  which  this  one  had  little  in 
common.  A  place  like  this  might  be  his,  with  its  broad 
acres  and  stables,  horses  and  motor  cars,  a  life  like  this  for 
the  asking.  A  marriage  of  reason !  With  Nina  Jaffray  at 
the  helm  of  his  destiny  and  hers.  God  forbid! 

He  had  laid  his  own  course  now,  but  he  had  weathered 
the  rocks  and  shoals  and  the  rough  water  in  sight  did  not 
dismay  him.  Marriage !  He  wanted  none  of  it  with  Nina 
or  any  other.  This  kind  of  life  was  not  for  him  unless  he 
won  it  for  himself,  for  only  then  would  he  be  fit  to  live  it. 
And  while  he  found  it  good  to  be  away  from  his  rooms  in 

the  house  in Street,  good  to  be  away  from  the  office 

for  a  while,  the  atmosphere  of  "  Clovelly  "  was  redolent 
of  his  early  days  of  indolence  and  undesire  and  he  suddenly 
found  himself  less  tolerant  of  the  failings  of  these  people 
than  he  had  ever  been  before.  He  hadn't  realized  what  his 
work  had  meant  until  he  had  this  idleness  to  compare  it 
with. 

291 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Jane !  He  had  been  able,  to  think  less  of  Jane  Loring 
in  the  fever  of  work,  but  here  at  "  Clovelly,"  among  the 
people  they  both  knew,  where  her  name  was  frequently 
mentioned,  he  found  it  less  easy  to  forget  her,  and  the  im- 
minence of  the  hour  when  he  must  see  her  again  gave  him  a 
qualm. 

He  lighted  his  pipe  and  started  downstairs  toward  the 
gunroom,  where  the  guests  were  recounting  the  adventures 
of  the  morning  over  tobacco  and  high-balls.  Nellie  Pen- 
nington,  who  had  an  instinct  for  the  psychological  mo- 
ment, met  him  and  led  him  to  a  lounge  at  the  end  of  the 
hall. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  are  you  prepared  to  give  a  full 
account  of  yourself?  " 

"  An  empty  account,  dear  Mother  Confessor.  I'm 
neither  sinful  nor  virtuous." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  about  that." 

"About  which?" 

"  About  either.  You're  unpleasantly  self-righteous 
and  criminally  unamiable." 

"Oh,  Nellie,  to  whom?  " 

"  To  me.    Also,  you're  stupid !  " 

"  Thanks.    That's  my  misfortune.    What  else?  " 

"  That's  enough  to  begin  on.  I  could  pull  your  ears 
in  chagrin.  You've  treated  my  advice  with  the  scantest 
ceremony,  made  ducks  and  drakes  of  the  opportunities  I've 
provided,  and  lastly  you've  gone  and  gotten  Nina  J  affray 
talked  about " 

"Nellie!     Please!     I  can't  permit " 

"  Oh,  fudge,  Phil.  Nina  is  well  able  to  look  after  her-* 
self.  It  isn't  of  Nina  I'm  thinking." 

"Who  then?" 

"  You !  You  silly  goose.  There  isn't  any  spectacle  in 
the  world  half  so  ludicrous  as  a  chivalrous  man  defending 

292 


DIAMOND   CUT  DIAMOND 

the  fame  of  a  woman  who  doesn't  care  whether  she's  de- 
fended or  not." 

"  I  don't  see " 

"  I  know  you  don't.    That's  why  I'm  telling  you." 

"  But  Nina  does  care." 

"  Yes,  but  not  precisely  in  the  way  that  you  suppose. 
Fortune  gave  her  some  excellent  cards — and  she  played 
them." 

"  Please  be  more  explicit." 

"  Very  well,  then.  Girls  of  Nina's  type  would  rather 
have  their  name  coupled  unpleasantly  with  that  of  the 
man  they  care  for  than  not  coupled  with  it  at  all." 

"  Nonsense,  Nina  doesn't  care " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  does.  She  wants  to  marry  you.  She  has 
told  you  so,  hasn't  she?  " 

Phil  Gallatin  looked  at  her  quickly  with  eyes  agog. 
Such  powers  of  divination  were  uncanny. 

"  She  has  proposed  to  you  once — twice — how  many 
times,  Phil?  " 

"  None — not  at  all,"  he  stammered,  while  she  smiled 
and  shrugged  her  incredulity. 

"  If  I  didn't  know  already,  I  need  only  a  glance  at 
your  face  to  be  convinced  of  it." 

"  How  did  you  know?  " 

"  How  does  a  woman  know  anything?  By  virtue,  my 
friend,  of  those  invisible  spiritual  fibers  which  she  thrusts 
in  all  directions  and  upon  which  she  receives  impressions. 
That's  how  she  knows." 

"  You  guessed?  " 

"  Call  it  that,  if  you  like.  I  guessed.  I  guessed  this, 
also:  that  Nina  wanted  Jane  to  believe  this  story  to  be 
true.  It  didn't  need  much  to  convince  her.  That  little 
Nina  was  willing  to  provide." 

"What?" 

293 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Nina  admitted  that  the  story  was  true,"  she  re- 
peated. 

Gallatin  rose  to  his  feet  and  stared  at  his  companion 
like  one  possessed. 

"  Nina  admitted  it !     You're  dreaming." 

"  No.     I'm  very  wide  awake.     I  wish  you  were." 

"  It's  preposterous.  Whatever  put  such  an  idea  into 
your  head?  " 

"  My  antennas." 

"  Nonsense !  " 

"  Listen.  Nina  called  on  Jane  a  while  ago.  They  had 
a  long  talk.  Something  happened — something  that  has 
interrupted  friendly  relations.  They  don't  speak  now. 
What  do  you  suppose  that  talk  was  about?  The  weather? 
Or  a  plan  for  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  home- 
less cats?  Oh,  you  know  a  lot  about  women,  Phil  Galla- 
tin !  "  she  finished  scornfully. 

"  I  know  enough,"  he  muttered. 

"  You  think  you  do,"  she  put  in  quickly.  "  The  Lord 
give  me  patience  to  talk  to  you !  For  unbiased  ignorance, 
next  to  the  callous  youth  who  thinks  he  knows  it  all, 
commend  me  to  the  modern  Galahad !  The  one  only  thinks 
he  knows,  but  the  other  doesn't  want  to  know.  He's  con- 
tent to  believe  every  woman  irreproachable  by  the  mere 
virtue  of  being  a  woman.  Nina  Jaffray  has  played  her 
cards  with  remarkable  cleverness,  but  she  has  been  quite 
unscrupulous.  It's  time  you  knew  it,  and  it's  time  that 
Jane  did.  I  would  tell  her  if  I  thought  she  would  believe 
me,  but  I  fancy  I've  meddled  enough." 

Gallatin  took  two  or  three  paces  up  and  down  and 
then  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  It  isn't  meddling,  Nellie,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You've 
done  your  best  and  I'm  grateful  to  you.  Unfortunately, 
you  can't  help  me  any  longer.  It's  too  late.  I  did  what  I 

294 


could.  No  girl  who  had  ever  loved  a  man  could  let  him 
go  so  easily,  could  doubt  him  so  willingly.  It  was  all  a 
mistake.  It's  better  to  find  it  out  now  than  too  late." 

Nellie  Pennington  didn't  reply.  She  only  looked  down 
at  her  muddy  boots  with  the  cryptic  smile  that  women 
wear  when  they  wish  to  conceal  either  their  ignorance  or 
their  wisdom. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Jane  was  dining  here  to-night  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.    "  Nina  told  me.    I'm  sorry." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least.  The  world  is  big 
enough  for  everybody.  Jane  evidently  thinks  so,  too. 
Otherwise  she  wouldn't  be  coming." 

"  Does  she  know  I'm  here?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  knows  that  Nina  is,  too." 

Gallatin  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  You  don't  understand  women,  do  you,  Phil  ?  Admit 
that  and  I'll  tell  you  why  she's  coming." 

He  smiled.  "  I  do  admit  it.  You're  all  in  league  with 
the  devil." 

"  She's  coming  here  because  she  wants  to  show  you 
how  little  she  cares,  because  she  has  a  morbid  curiosity 
to  see  you  and  Nina  together,  and  lastly,"  at  this  she 
leaned  toward  him  with  her  lips  very  close  to  his  ear, 
"  and  lastly — because  she  loves  you  more  madly  than 
ever !  " 

He  had  hardly  recovered  from  the  shock  of  surprise 
at  this  announcement  when  he  realized  that  Nellie  Pen- 
nington had  suddenly  risen  and  fled. 

This  preliminary  step  taken,  Nellie  Pennington  re- 
treated upstairs  in  the  most  amiable  of  moods,  to  dress 
for  luncheon.  If  Nina  was  going  to  play  the  game  with 
marked  cards,  it  was  quite  proper  that  Phil  be  permitted 
the  use  of  the  code.  She  had  at  least  provided  him  with 

295 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


food  for  reflection,  which,  while  not  quite  pleasant  to  take, 
would  serve  as  nutrition  for  his  failing  optimism.  And 
somewhere  in  the  back  of  her  head  a  plan  was  being  born, 
unpalpable  as  yet  and  formless,  but  which  persisted  in 
growing  in  spite  of  her. 


296 


XXV 

DEEP   WATER 

THE  afternoon  was  passed  in  leisurely  fashion.  The 
modern  way  of  entertaining  guests  is  to  let  them 
entertain  themselves.  They  loafed,  smoked,  played 
bottle-pool  and  later  on  there  was  a  court  tennis  match 
between  young  Dorsey-Martin  and  the  marker,  which 
drew  a  gallery  and  applause.  Nina  Jaffray  tried  it  next 
with  Bibby  Worthington  and  though  she  had  played  but> 
once,  got  the  knack  of  the  "  railroad  "  service  and  suc- 
ceeded in  beating  him  handily,  amid  derisive  remarks  for 
Bibby  from  the  nets.  A  plunge  in  the  pool  followed ;  after 
which  the  ladies  went  up  for  a  rest  before  dressing  for 
dinner.  Gallatin  saw  little  of  Nellie  Pennington  during 
the  afternoon,  and  though  he  wanted  to  question  her  to 
satisfy  the  alarming  curiosity  which  she  had  aroused,  she 
avoided  speaking  to  him  alone,  and  when  he  insisted  on 
following  her  about,  fled  to  her  room.  She  knew  the  effect 
of  her  revelations  upon  his  mind  and  she  didn't  propose 
that  it  should  be  spoiled  by  an  anti-climax. 

The  dinner  hour  arrived  and  with  it  the  Ledyards  and 
their  house-guests,  Angela  Wetherill,  Millicent  Reeves, 
the  Perrines,  Jane  Loring,  Percy  Endicott,  Coleman  Van 
Duyn  and  some  of  the  Warrenton  folk.  Dinner  tables, 
each  with  six  chairs,  had  been  laid  in  the  dining-room  and 
hall,  but  so  perfect  was  the  machinery  of  the  great  estab- 
lishment that  the  influx  of  guests  made  no  apparent  differ- 
ence in  its  orderly  procedure.  There  were  good-natured 

297 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


comments  on  Bibby  Worthington's  defeat  in  the  afternoon, 
congratulations  for  Nina  Jaffray  on  her  dual  achieve- 
ment, uncomplimentary  remarks  about  Virginia  clay,  nat- 
tering ones  about  Virginia  hospitality  and  the  usual  dis- 
cussion about  breeds  of  hounds  and  horses,  back  of  which 
was  to  be  discovered  the  ancient  rivalry  between  the  Ce- 
darcroft  and  Apawomeck  hunt  clubs. 

Nellie  Pennington  directed  the  destinies  of  the  table 
at  which  Gallatin  sat.  Nina  Jaffray  was  on  his  right, 
Larry  Kane  beyond  her,  Coleman  Van  Duyn  on  Mrs. 
Pennington's  left  and  Jane  Loring  opposite.  Nothing 
could  possibly  have  been  arranged  which  could  conspire 
more  thoroughly  to  lacerate  the  feelings  of  those  assem- 
bled. Gallatin  saw  Jane  halt  when  she  was  directed  to 
her  seat,  he  heard  Nina's  titter  of  delight  beside  him, 
caught  Larry  Kane's  glare  and  Coley  Van  Duyn's  flush, 
but  the  stab  of  Jane's  eyes  hardened  him  into  an  imme- 
diate gayety  in  which  Nina  was  not  slow  to  follow.  Mrs. 
Pennington  having  devised  the  situation,  calmly  sat  and 
proceeded  to  enjoy  it.  Good  breeding,  she  knew,  made  a 
fair  amalgam  of  the  most  heterogeneous  elements,  but  she 
gave  a  short  sigh  when  they  were  all  seated  and  each 
began  talking  rapidly  to  his  neighbor,  Jane  to  Larry 
Kane,  Nina  to  Phil  and  herself  to  Coley.  Pangs  in  every 
heart  except  her  own!  It  was  the  perfection  of  social 
cruelty,  and  she  enjoyed  it  hugely,  aware  that  two,  per- 
haps three,  of  the  persons  at  the  table  might  never  care 
to  speak  to  her  again,  but  stimulated  by  the  reflection, 
whether  for  bad  or  good,  something  must  come  out  of  her 
crucible.  The  first  shock  of  dismay  over,  it  was  apparent 
that  her  dinner  partners  had  decided  to  make  the  best 
of  the  situation.  The  table  was  small,  and  general  con- 
versation inevitable,  but  she  chose  for  the  present  to  let 
matters  take  their  course,  trusting  to  Nina  to  provide 

298 


DEEP    WATER 


that  element  of  uncertainty  which  was  to  make  the  plot 
of  her  comedy  fruitful. 

Indeed,  Nina  seemed  in  her  element,  and,  when  a  sud- 
den silence  fell,  broke  the  ice  with  a  carelessness  which 
showed  her  quite  oblivious  of  its  existence. 

"  So  nice  of  you,  Nellie,  to  have  us  all  together !  I 
was  just  saying  to  Phil  that  dinners  at  small  tables  can  be 
such  a  bore,  if  the  people  are  not  all  congenial." 

"  Jolly,  isn't  it  ?  "  laughed  Nellie.  "  Jane,  why  weren't 
you  hunting  this  morning?  " 

"  Oh,  Coley  didn't  want  to,"  she  said  quickly,  her 
rapier  flashing  in  two  directions. 

Nellie  Pennington  understood. 

"  You  are  getting  heavy,  aren't  you,  Coley  ?  "  she 
asked  sweetly.  "  Didn't  Honora  have  anything  up  to  your1 
weight?  " 

"  I  didn't  ask,"  returned  Van  Duyn  peevishly.  "  Dread- 
ful bore,  huntin' " 

"  Hear  the  man !  "  exclaimed  Nellie.  "  You're  spoiling 
him,  Jane." 

"  There's  no  hope  for  any  creature  who  doesn't  like 
hunting,"  put  in  Nina  in  disgust. 

"  Except  the  fox,"  said  Gallatin. 

"  And  there's  not  much  for  him  when  Nina  rides," 
laughed  Larry  Kane.  "  Lord,  Nina,  but  you  did  take 
some  chances  to-day." 

"  I  believe  in  taking  chances,"  put  in  Miss  Jaffray 
calmly.  "  The  element  of  uncertainty  is  all  that  makes 
life  worth  while.  Nothing  in  the  world  is  so  deadly  as 
the  obvious." 

"  You'll  be  kept  busy  avoiding  it,"  sighed  Nellie.  "  I've 
been." 

"  Oh,  I  simply  ignore  it,"  she  returned,  with  a  quick 
gesture.  "  Jane  won't  approve,  of  course ;  but  the  un- 

299 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


usual,  the  daring,  the  unconventional  are  the  only  things 
that  interest  me  at  all." 

"  They  interest  others  when  you  do  them,  Nina,"  Jane 
replied  smiling  calmly. 

"  Of  course,  they  do.  And  you  ought  to  be  grate- 
ful." 

"  We  are.  I'm  sure  we'd  be  very  dull  without  you. 
Personally  I'm  a  bromide." 

"  Heaven  forbid !  The  things  that  are  easiest  are  not 
worth  trying  for.  Whether  your  game  is  fish,  fowl  or 
beast  (and  that  includes  man),  try  the  most  difficult.  The 
thrill  of  delight  when  you  bag  your  game  is  worth  all  the 
pains  of  the  effort.  Isn't  it,  Nellie?  " 

" 1  don't  know,"  the  other  replied,  between  oysters. 
"  I  bagged  Dick,  but  then  I  didn't  have  to  try  very  hard. 
I  suppose  I  would  have  bagged  him  just  the  same.  A 
woman  can  have  any  man  she  wants,  you  know." 

"  The  trouble  is,"  laughed  Larry  Kane,  "  that  she 
doesn't  know  what  she  wants." 

"  And,  if  she  does,  Larry,"  said  Gallatin  slowly,  "  he's 
usually  the  wrong  one." 

Nina  laughed. 

"  His  sex  must  be  blamed  for  that.  The  right  men 
are  all  wrong  and  the  wrong  men  are  all  right.  That's 
my  experience.  '  Young  saint,  old  devil ;  young  devil,  old 
saint.'  You  couldn't  provide  me  with  a  better  recom- 
mendation for  a  good  husband  than  a  bad  reputation  as 
a  bachelor.  And  think  of  the  calm  delights  of  regenera- 
tion!" 

"  You'll  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  him,  Nina,"  said 
Jane. 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  no  hope  for  me,"  laughed  Kane. 
"  I,  for  one,  am  too  good  for  any  use." 

"Too  good  to  be  true,"  sniffed  Nina. 
300 


"  Or  too  true  to  be  interesting,"  he  added,  below  his 
breath. 

Nellie  Pennington,  having  led  her  companions  into  deep 
water,  now  turned  and  guided  them  into  the  shoals  of  thft 
commonplace.  Jane  Loring's  eyes  and  Phil  Gallatin's  had 
met  across  the  table.  The  act  was  unavoidable  for  they 
sat  directly  opposite  each  other  and,  though  each  looked 
away  at  once,  the  current  established,  brief  as  it  was,  was 
burdened  with  meaning.  Gallatin  read  a  hundred  things, 
but  love  was  not  one  of  them.  Jane  read  a  hundred  things 
any  one  of  which  might  have  been  love,  but,  as  far  as  she 
knew,  was  not.  Gallatin  caught  the  end  of  a  gaze  she  had 
given  him  while  he  was  talking  to  Nina,  and  he  fancied  it 
to  be  a  kind  of  indignant  curiosity,  not  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree related  to  the  scorn  of  her  surprise  at  being  detected 
in  the  midst  of  her  inspection.  Gallatin  found  her  face 
thinner,  which  made  her  eyes  seem  larger  and  the  shadows 
under  them  deeper.  He  had  seen  fresh  young  beauty  such 
as  hers  break  and  fade  during  one  season  in  New  York, 
but  it  shocked  him  a  little  to  find  these  marks  so  evident 
in  so  short  a  time.  It  was  as  though  a  year,  two  years 
even,  had  been  crowded  into  the  few  weeks  since  he  had 
seen  her  last,  as  though  she  had  lived  at  high  tension, 
letting  nothing  escape  her  that  could  add  to  the  sum  of 
experience.  Her  eyes  sparkled,  and  on  her  cheeks  was  a 
patch  of  red  clearly  defined,  like  rouge,  but  not  rouge,  for 
it  came  and  went  with  her  humor.  She  had  grown  older, 
more  intense,  more  fragile,  her  features  more  clearly 
carved,  more  refined  and — except  for  the  hard  little 
shadows  at  the  corners  of  her  lips — more  spiritual. 

He  glanced  at  the  heavy,  bovine  face  of  Coley  Van 
Duyn  beside  her  and  wondered.  Coley  had  been  drinking 
freely  and  his  face  was  flushed,  his  laugh  open-mouthed 
and  louder  than  Nellie  Pennington's  humor  seemed  to  war- 

301 


rant.      How   could  she?      God!      How   could   she   do   it? 

A  blind  rage  came  upon  Gallatin,  a  sudden  wave  of 
intolerance  and  rebellion,  and  he  clenched  his  fists  beneath 
the  table.  This  man  drank  as  much  as  he  liked  and  when 
he  pleased.  He  was  the  club  glutton.  He  ate  immoder- 
ately and  drank  immoderately,  because  he  liked  to  do  it, 
and  because  that  was  his  notion  of  comfort.  Not,  as  had 
been  the  case  with  Gallatin,  because  he  had  not  been  able 
to  live  without  it.  Van  Duyn  could  stop  drinking  when 
he  liked,  when  he  had  had  enough,  when  he  didn't  want 
any  more.  He  drank  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  drinking. 
Gallatin  bit  his  lip  and  stared  at  his  untouched  wine 
glasses.  Pleasure?  With  Gallatin  it  had  been  no  pleas- 
ure. It  had  been  a  medicine,  a  desperate  remedy  for  a 
desperate  pain,  a  poisonous  medicine  which  cured  and 
killed  at  the  same  time. 

"  Phil !  "  Nina's  voice  sounded  suddenly  at  his  ear. 
"Are  you  ill?" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"  You  haven't  listened  to  a  word  I've  been  saying,  and 
it  was  so  interesting." 

He  laughed. 

"  What  were  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"My  sins." 

"  Then  I  don't  wonder  that  you  looked  so  badly." 

But  it  was  clear  that  she  understood  him,  for  after  a 
short  silence  she  spoke  of  other  things. 

The  dinner  having  progressed  to  the  salad  course, 
visiting  was  in  order,  and  the  guests  sauntered  from  table 
to  table,  exchanging  chairs  and  partners.  Jane  Loring 
was  one  of  the  first  to  take  advantage  of  this  opportunity 
to  escape,  and  found  a  seat  at  Honora  Ledyard's  table 
between  Bibby  Worthington  and  Percy  Endicott. 

Nellie  Pennington  watched  her  departure  calmly,  for 
302 


DEEP    WATER 


she  had  learned  what  she  had  set  out  to  learn.  All  women, 
no  matter  how  youthful,  are  clever  at  dissimulation,  but 
the  art  being  common  to  all  women,  deceives  none.  And 
Jane,  skillful  though  she  had  been  in  hiding  her  thoughts 
from  Gallatin,  deceived  neither  Nellie  Pennington  nor 
Nina  Jaffray. 

Dinner  over,  Nellie  Pennington  followed  the  crowd  to 
the  gunroom.  The  married  set  were  already  at  their 
auction  and  somebody  beckoned  to  her  to  make  a  four, 
but  she  refused.  On  this  night  she  had  a  mission.  She 
wandered  from  group  to  group,  keeping  one  eye  on  Jane 
and  the  other  on  Phil,  until  the  music  began,  when  with 
one  accord,  all  but  the  most  devoted  of  the  bridge-players 
returned  to  the  hall,  from  which  the  furniture  had  been 
cleared,  and  where  the  polished  wax  surface  shone  invit- 
ingly. Mrs.  Pennington  waited  until  the  waltz  was  well 
under  way  and  saw  Jane  Loring  circling  the  room  safely 
with  Larry  Kane,  when  she  went  into  the  library  alone. 
Her  thought  had  crystallized  into  a  definite  plan. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  third  dance  when  Jane,  on  the 
arm  of  Percy  Endicott  was  on  her  way  to  the  terrace  for 
a  breath  of  air,  that  Bibby  Worthington  slipped  a  note 
into  her  fingers.  She  excused  herself  and  took  it  to  the 
nearest  electric  bulb.  She  knew  the  handwriting  at  once. 
It  was  in  Nina  Jaffray's  picturesque  scrawl. 

"  Jane,  dear,"  it  ran.  "  I  must  see  you  for  a  moment 
about  something  which  concerns  you  intimately.  Meet  me 
at  twelve  by  the  fountain  in  the  loggia  of  the  tennis  court. 

"  NINA." 

Jane  turned  the  note  over  and  re-read  it;  then  with 
quick  scorn,  tore  it  into  tiny  pieces  and  scattered  them 
into  the  bushes.  The  impudence  of  her!  She  had  given 
Nina  credit  for  better  taste.  What  right  had  she  to 

303 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


intrude  again  in  Jane's  private  affairs  when  she  must 
know  how  little  her  offices  were  appreciated?  And  yet, 
what  was  this  she  had  to  say?  Something  that  concerned 
Jane  intimately?  What  could  that  be  unless 

Coleman  Van  Duyn  appeared  and  claimed  the  next 
dance,  which  he  begged  that  she  would  sit  out.  Jane 
agreed  because  it  would  give  her  a  chance  to  think.  There 
was  little  real  exertion  required  in  talking  to  Coley. 

What  could  Nina  want  to  tell  her?  And  where — did 
she  say?  In  the  loggia  of  the  tennis  court — at  twelve.  It 
must  be  almost  that  now. 

At  five  minutes  of  twelve  Nellie  Pennington  handed 
Gallatin  a  note. 

"  From  Nina,"  she  whispered.  "  It's  really  outra- 
geous, Phil,  the  way  you're  flirting  with  that  trusting 
child.  I'm  sure  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

The  tennis  court  was  at  the  far  end  of  the  long  house. 
It  was  reached  by  passing  first  a  succession  of  rooms 
which  made  up  the  main  building,  into  the  conservatory, 
by  the  swimming-pool  and  loggia.  The  loggia  was  a  red- 
tiled  portico,  enclosed  in  glass  during  the  winter,  in  the 
center  of  which  was  a  fountain  surrounded  by  a  circular 
marble  bench,  all  filched  from  an  old  Etruscan  villa.  To- 
night it  was  unlighted  except  by  the  glow  from  the  bronze 
Japanese  lamps  in  the  conservatory;  an  ideal  spot  for  a 
tryst,  so  far  removed  from  the  main  body  of  the  house 
and  so  cool  in  winter  that  it  was  seldom  used  except  as  a 
promenade  or  as  a  haven  by  those  purposely  belated.  Gal- 
latin, the  scrap  of  paper  in  his  fingers,  strolled  through 
the  deserted  halls,  smoking  thoughtfully.  Nina  Jaffray 
was  beginning  to  grate  just  a  little  on  his  neTves.  He 
had  no  idea  what  she  wanted  of  him  and  he  didn't  much 
care. 

He  only  knew  that  it  was  almost  time  for  him  to  make 
304 


DEEP    WATER 


his  meaning  clear  to  her  in  terms  which  might  not  be  mis- 
understood. As  he  entered  the  obscurity  of  the  loggia,  he 
saw  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  figure  in  white  above  the 
back  of  the  stone  bench. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me?  "  he  said. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  figure  rose,  stood  poised 
Breathless,  and  he  saw  that  it  was  not  Nina. 

"  I?  "  Jane's  voice  answered. 

He  stopped  and  the  cigarette  slipped  from  his  fingers. 

"  I — I  beg  pardon.    I  was  told  that " 

"  That  /  wanted  to  see  you  ?  "  she  broke  in  scorn- 
fully. 

"  No.    Not  you — "  he  replied,  still  puzzled. 

"  There  has  been  a  mistake,  Mr.  Gallatin.  I  do  not 
want  to  see  you.  If  you'll  excuse  me " 

She  made  a  movement  to  go,  but  Gallatin  stood  in  the 
aperture,  the  only  avenue  of  escape,  and  did  not  move. 
His  hands  were  at  his  sides,  his  head  bent  forward,  his 
eyes  gazing  into  the  pool. 

"  Wait — "  he  muttered,  as  though  to  himself.  "  Don't 
go  yet.  I've  something  to  say — just  a  word — it  will  not 
take  a  moment.  Will  you  listen?  " 

"  I  suppose  I — I  must,"  she  stammered. 

"  I  hear — "  he  began  painfully,  "  that  it's  true  that 
you're  going  to  marry  Mr.  Van  Duyn." 

"  And  what  if  it  is  ?  "  she  flashed  at  him. 

"  Nothing — except  that  I  hope  you'll  be  happy.  I 
wish  you " 

"  Thanks,"  dryly.  "  When  I'm  ready  for  the  good 
wishes — of — of  anybody,  I'll  ask  for  them.  At  present — 
will  you  let  me  pass,  please?  " 

"  Yes — in  a  moment.  I  thought  perhaps  you  might 
be  willing  to  tell  me  whether  it's  true,  the  report  of  your 
engagement?  " 

305 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  can't  see  how  that  can  be  any  interest  of  yours." 

"  Only  the  interest  of  one  you  once  cared  for  and 
who " 

"  Mr.  Gallatin,  I  forbid  it,"  she  said  hurriedly. 
"  Would  you  be  so  unmanly  as  to  take  advantage  of  your 
position  here?  Isn't  it  enough  that  I  no  longer  care  to 
know  you,  that  I  prefer  to  choose  my  own  friends?  "  jt 

"Will  you  answer  my  question?"  he  repeated  dog- 
gedly. 

"  No.    You  have  no  right  to  question  me." 

"  I'm  assuming  the  right.  Your  memory  of  the 
past " 

"  There  is  no  past.  It  was  the  dream  of  a  silly  child 
in  another  world  where  men  were  honest  and  women  clean. 
I've  grown  older,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  mercy,  not  in  compassion,  not  in. 
charity." 

"  Speak  of  virtue  before  you  speak  of  mercy,  of  pride 
before  compassion,  of  decency  before  charity — if  you 
can,"  she  added  contemptuously. 

"  You're  cruel,"  he  muttered,  "  horribly  so." 

"I'm  wiser  than  I  was.  The  world  has  done  me  that 
service.  And  if  cruelty  is  the  price  of  wisdom,  I'll  pay 
it.  Baseness,  meanness,  improbity  in  business  or  in  morals 
no  longer  surprise  me.  They're  woven  into  the  tissue  of 
life.  I  can  abominate  the  conditions  that  cause  them, 
but  they  are  the  world.  And,  until  I  choose  to  live  alone, 
I  must  accept  them  even  if  I  despise  the  men  and  women 
who  practice  them,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"And  you  call  this  wisdom?  This  disbelief  in  every- 
thing— in  everybody,  this  threadbare  creed  of  the  jaded 
women  of  the  world?  " 

"  Call  it  what  you  like.  Neither  your  opinions  nor 
your  principles  (or  the  lack  of  them)  mean  anything  to 

306 


DEEP    WATER 


me.  If  I  had  known  you  were  here  I  should  not  have  come 
to-night.  I  pray  that  we  may  never  meet  again." 

He  stood  silent  a  long  moment,  searching  her  face  with 
his  eyes.  She  was  so  cold,  so  white  and  wraithlike,  and  her 
voice  was  so  strange,  so  impersonal,  that  he  was  almost 
ready  to  believe  that  she  was  some  one  else.  It  was  the 
voice  of  a  woman  without  a  soul — a  calm,  ruthless  voice 
which  sought  to  wound,  to  injure  or  destroy.  It  had 
been  on  his  lips  to  speak  of  the  past,  to  translate  into  the 
words  the  pain  at  his  heart.  He  had  been  ready  to  take 
one  step  forward,  to  seize  her  in  his  arms  and  compel  her 
by  the  might  of  his  tenderness  to  return  the  love  that  he 
bore  her.  If  he  had  done  so  then,  perh&ps  fortune  would 
have  favored  him — have  favored  them  both;  for  in  the 
hour  of  their  greatest  intolerance  women  are  sometimes 
most  vulnerable.  But  he  could  not.  Her  words  chilled 
him  to  insensibility,  scourged  his  pride  and  made  him  dumb 
and  unyielding. 

"  If  that  is  your  wish,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  will  do  my 
best  to  respect  it.  I'd  like  you  to  remember  one  thing, 
though,  and  that  is  that  this  meeting  was  not  of  my  seek- 
ing. If  I've  detained  you,  it  was  with  the  hope  that  per- 
haps you  might  be  willing  to  listen  to  the  truth,  io  learn 
what  a  dreadful  mistake  you  have  made,  of  the  horrible 
wrong  you  have  done " 

"To  you?" 

"  No,"  sternly.  "  To  Nina  Jaffray.  Think  what  you 
like  of  me,"  he  went  on  with  sudden  passion.  "  It  doesn't 
matter.  You  can't  make  a  new  pain  sharper  than  the 
old  one.  But  you've  got  to  do  justice  to  her." 

"  What  is  the  use,  Mr.  Gallatin?  " 

"  It's  a  lie  that  they've  told,  a  cruel  lie,  as  you'll  learn 
some  day  when  it  will  be  too  late  to  repair  the  wrong 
you've  done." 

307 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I  don't  believe  that  it  was  a  lie,  Mr.  Gallatin.  A  lie 
will  not  persist  against  odds.  This  does.  You've  done 
your  duty.  Now  please  let  me  go." 

"  Not  yet.    You  needn't  be  afraid  of  me." 

"  Let  me  pass." 

"  In  a  moment — when  you  listen.  You  must.  Nina 
Jaffray  is  blameless.  She  would  not  deny  such  a  story. 
It  would  demean  her  to  deny  it  as  it  demeans  me." 

"  It  does  demean  you,"  she  broke  in  pitilessly,  "  as 
other  things  have  demeaned  you.  Shame,  Mr.  Gallatin! 
Do  you  think  I  could  believe  the  word  of  a  man  who  seeks 
revenge  for  a  woman's  indifference?  Who  finding  her  in- 
vulnerable goes  to  the  ends  of  his  resources  to  attack 
the  members  of  her  family?  Trying  by  methods  known 
only  to  himself  and  those  of  his  kind  to  hinder  the  suc- 
cess of  those  more  diligent  than  himself,  to  smirch  the  good 
name  of  an  honest  man,  to  obtain  money 

"  Stop,"  cried  Gallatin  hoarsely,  and  in  spite  of  her- 
self she  obeyed.  For  he  was  leaning  forward  toward  her, 
the  long  fingers  of  one  hand  trembling  before  him. 

"  You've  gone  almost  too  far,  Miss  Loring,"  he  whis- 
pered. "  You  are  talking  about  things  of  which  you  know- 
nothing.  I  will  not  speak  of  that,  nor  shall  you,  for  what- 
ever our  relations  have  been  or  are  now,  nothing  in  them 
justifies  that  insult.  Time  will  prove  the  right  or  the 
wrong  of  the  matter  between  Henry  K.  Loring  and  me  as 
time  will  prove  the  right  and  the  wrong  to  his  daughter. 
I  ask  nothing  of  her  now,  nor  ever  shall,  not  even  a 
thought.  The  girl  I  am  thinking  of  was  gentle,  kind,  sin- 
cere. She  looked  with  the  eyes  of  compassion,  the  far- 
seeing  gaze  of  innocence  unclouded  by  bitterness  or  doubt. 
I  gave  her  all  that  was  best  in  me,  all  that  was  honest, 
all  that  was  true,  and  in  return  she  gave  me  courage,  pur- 
pose, resolution.  I  loved  her  for  herself,  because  she  was 

308 


DEEP    WATER 


herself,  but  more  for  the  things  she  represented — purity, 
nobility,  strength  which  I  drew  from  her  like  an  inspira- 
tion. It  was  to  her  that  I  owed  the  will  to  conquer  my- 
self, the  purpose  to  win  back  my  self-respect.  I  thanked 
God  for  her  then  and  I'm  thankful  now,  but  I'm  more 
thankful  that  I'm  no  longer  dependent  on  her." 

Jane  had  sunk  on  the  bench  again,  her  head  bent  and 
a  sound  came  from  her  lips.  But  he  did  not  hear  it. 

"  I  do  not  need  her  now,"  he  went  on  quietly.  "  What 
she  was  is  only  a  memory;  what  she  is,  only  a  regret.  I 
shall  live  without  her.  I  shall  live  without  any  woman, 
for  no  woman  could  ever  be  to  me  what  that  memory  Is. 
I  love  it  passionately,  reverently,  madly,  tenderly,  and  will 
be  true  to  it,  as  I  have  always  been.  And,  if  ever  the 
moment  comes  when  the  woman  that  girl  has  grown  to 
be  looks  into  the  past,  let  her  remember  that  love  knows 
not  doubt  or  bitterness,  that  it  lives  upon  itself,  is  sufficient 
unto  itself  and  that,  whatever  happens,  is  faithful  until 
death." 

He  stopped  and  stepped  aside. 

"  I  have  finished,  Miss  Loring.     Now  go !  " 

The  peremptory  note  startled  her  and  she  straightened 
and  slowly  rose.  His  head  was  bowed  but  his  finger 
pointed  toward  the  door  of  the  conservatory.  As  she 
passed  him  she  hesitated  as  though  about  to  speak,  and 
then  slowly  raising  her  head  walked  past  him  and  dis- 
appeared. 


309 


XXVI 

BIG   BUSINESS 

TOOKER  fidgeted  uneasily  with  the  papers  on  the 
junior  partner's  desk,  moving  to  the  safe  in  the 
main  office  and  back  again,  bringing  bundles  of 
(documents  which  he  disposed  in  an  orderly  row  where  Mr. 
Gallatin  could  put  his  hands  on  them.  Eleven  o'clock 
was  the  hour  set  for  the  conference  between  Henry  K. 
Loring  and  Philip  Gallatin.  Mr.  Leuppold  had  written 
last  week  that  Mr.  Loring  had  agreed  to  a  conference 
and  asked  Mr.  Gallatin  to  come  to  his,  Mr.  Leuppold's, 
private  office  at  a  given  time.  Gallatin  had  agreed  to 
the  day  and  hour  named,  but  politely  insisted  that  Mr. 
Leuppold  and  Mr.  Loring  come  to  his  office.  It  would 
have  made  no  difference  in  the  result,  of  course,  but  Gal- 
latin had  reasons  of  his  own. 

At  ten  o'clock  Philip  Gallatin  came  in  and  read  his 
mail.  He  had  returned  yesterday  from  his  southern 
visit,  and  in  the  afternoon  had  gone  over,  with  Mr.  Kenyon 
and  Mr.  Hood,  the  details  of  the  case.  The  matter  had 
been  discussed  freely,  but  it  was  clear  to  Tooker,  who 
had  been  present,  that  the  other  partners  had  been  able 
to  add  nothing  but  their  approval  to  the  work  which 
Gallatin  had  done. 

His  mail  finished,  Gallatin  took  up  the  other  papers 
on  his  desk  and  scrutinized  them  carefully,  after  which 
he  glanced  at  his  watch  and  pressed  the  button  for  the 
chief  clerk. 

310 


BIG   BUSINESS 


"  There  has  been  no  message  from  Mr.  Leuppold, 
vTooker?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing." 

Gallatin  smiled.  "  That's  good.  I  was  figuring  on 
a  slight  chance  that  they  might  want  more  time,  and  ask 
a  postponement." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that." 

"  It  wouldn't  help  them.  I  guess  they've  found  that 
out." 

"  I  hope  so.    But  I  shouldn't  take  any  chances." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  he  returned  grimly.  And  then,  "  Mr. 
Markham  is  here,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Yes.  He  came  early.  I've  shown  him  into  Mr. 
Kenyon's  office  as  you  directed." 

"  Very  good,  Tooker.  And  I  will  want  you,  so  please 
idon't  go  out." 

"  I'm  not  going  out  this  morning,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  said 
Tooker,  with  a  grin. 

After  the  chief  clerk  had  disappeared  Gallatin  walked 
to  the  window  where  he  stood  for  a  long  while  with  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  looking  out  toward  the  Jersey 
shore.  His  thoughts  were  not  pleasant  ones.  The  words 
of  Jane's  recrimination  were  still  ringing  in  his  ears.  It 
was  Henry  Loring,  of  course,  who  had  put  all  that  into 
her  head,  but  he  blamed  her  for  the  readiness  with  which 
she  had  been  willing  to  condemn  him  from  the  first,  the 
facility  with  which  she  had  been  able  to  turn  from  him  to 
another. 

His  idyl  had  passed. 

He  turned  into  the  room,  brows  lowering  and  jaws  set, 
and  went  to  his  desk  again.  There,  at  a  few  moments 
past  eleven,  Tooker  brought  in  word  that  Mr.  Leuppold 
and  Mr.  Loring  were  waiting  to  see  him. 

"  Tell  them  to  wait  in  the  outer  office,  Tooker,"  he 
311 


said  with  a  gleam  in  his  eye,  "  that  I  will  be  at  liberty  in  a 
few  moments.  I'll  ring  for  you." 

When  Tooker  had  gone,  Gallatin  sat  down  again, 
glanced  at  his  watch,  then  took  up  the  morning  paper, 
which  he  had  not  yet  opened,  and  read,  smiling.  It 
amused  him  to  think  of  Henry  K.  Loring  sitting  in  the 
outer  office,  wasting  time  worth  a  hundred  dollars  a  min- 
ute. It  amused  him  so  much  that  he  dropped  the  paper, 
put  his  feet  up  on  his  desk,  and  lit  a  cigarette,  to  enjoj 
the  situation  more  thoroughly.  Leuppold,  too,  his  suavity 
slowly  yielding  to  his  impatience,  would  be  twisting  his 
watch-fob  by  now  or  tapping  his  fat  fingers  on  his  legs, 
while  he  waited,  his  ease  of  mind  little  improved  by  the 
delay. 

Gallatin's  smile  diminished  with  his  cigarette,  and  at 
last  he  looked  at  his  watch  and  put  his  feet  on  the  floor 
and  rang  for  the  chief  clerk. 

"  You  may  show  those  gentlemen  in,  Tooker,"  he  said 
quietly. 

Tooker  glanced  at  the  ashes  of  the  cigarette,  picked 
up  the  newspaper  and  put  it  on  a  chair  in  the  corner, 
then  laid  one  or  two  documents  obtrusively  open,  on  Mr. 
Gallatin's  desk.  Phil  watched  him  with  a  smile.  Tooker 
was  a  thoughtful  and  cautious  soul. 

But  he  was  reading  the  nearest  document  intently 
when  Loring  and  Leuppold  entered.  He  turned  in  his 
chair — rose  and  bowed. 

"  You've  met  Mr.  Loring,  Mr.  Gallatin?  "  said  Leup- 
pold. 

Loring  dropped  his  chin  abruptly  the  fraction  of  an 
inch,  peering  keenly  about,  his  lips  drawn  in  a  thin  and 
unpleasant  smile.  Phil  Gallatin  indicated  a  chair  at  one 
end  of  the  table,  into  which  Loring  stiffly  sat,  with  one 
arm  on  the  table,  his  bull-neck  thrust  forward,  peering 

312 


BIG   BUSINESS 


steadily  at  the  younger  man,  watching  every  movement, 
studying  his  face  as  though  trying  by  the  intentness  of 
his  gaze  to  solve  the  question  as  to  whether  this  curiously 
inconsistent  young  man  was  a  menace  or  merely  a  nui- 
sance. 

Gallatin  laid  some  papers  upon  the  table,  took  some 
others  from  Tooker  and  moved  his  desk  chair  to  the  table. 
If  he  felt  Loring's  scrutiny,  his  calm  demeanor  gave  no 
sign  of  it,  for  after  a  few  commonplaces  he  began  ad- 
dressing his  remarks  directly  to  Mr.  Leuppold's  client. 

"  I  don't  propose  to  take  up  a  great  deal  of  your 
time,  gentlemen,"  he  began,  "  and  I  think  I  can  state 
my  position  in  a  very  few  moments."  He  took  out  his 
watch  and  looked  at  it.  "  About  twenty  minutes,  I  think. 
The  facts,  as  you  both  know,  are  these:  John- Sanborn, 
representing  the  minority  stockholders  of  the  Sanborn 
Mining  Company,  filed  an  injunction  against  the  President 
and  Board  of  Directors  of  the  Sanborn  Mining  Company 
to  prevent  the  sale  of  its  properties  and  interests  to  the 
Pequot  Coal  Company.  This  injunction  was  lost  in  the 
Supreme  Court  and  was  appealed  to  the  Appellate  Court, 
when  the  case  came  into  my  hands.  That  appeal  is  pend- 
ing. That  is  a  correct  statement,  is  it  not?  " 

"  It  is,"  said  Leuppold  blandly,  while  Loring  nodded 
his  head. 

"  The  sale  has,  therefore,  not  been  consummated  and 
cannot  be  consummated  until  the  higher  court  has  affirmed 
the  decision  of  the  lower  one  or  reversed  it." 

"  That  is  also  true,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  said  Leuppold. 
"  Proceed,  sir." 

Gallatin  hesitated,  his  brows  drew  together  and  his 
voice  took  a  deeper  note. 

"  This  case,  Mr.  Leuppold,  is  one  which  involves  not 
only  large  issues  but  large  principles.  The  Sanborn  Min- 

313 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


ing  Company  owns  the  most  valuable  coal  properties,  with 
the  possible  exception  of  those  owned  by  the  Pequot  Coal 
Company,  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania,  and  until  1909  was 
doing  an  enormous  business  with  the  trade  centers  of  the 
East,  working  at  full  capacity  and  employing  an  army  of 
men  in  getting  its  coal  to  market.  Its  only  rival  in  pro- 
duction was  the  Pequot  Coal  Company,  of  which  Mr.  Lo- 
ring,  as  he  has  admitted,  controls  the  majority  of  the 
stock. 

"  In  the  summer  of  1909,  conditions  changed.  The 
Lehigh  and  Pottsville  Railroad  Company  found  it  impos- 
sible to  furnish  cars  to  the  Sanborn  mines.  I  have  copies 
of  the  correspondence,  relating  to  the  matter:  repeated 
letters  of  request  on  the  part  of  the  Sanborn  Company  and 
excuses  on  the  part  of  the  railroad  company,  as  well  as 
frequent  promises  which  were  never  fulfilled." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  the  pending  suit?  "  asked 
Leuppold  carelessly,  with  an  effective  shrug  of  his 
shoulder. 

"  I'm  coming  to  that,  Mr.  Leuppold.  And  I  ask  for 
your  patience,"  said  Gallatin.  "  This  failure  of  the  rail- 
road company  to  provide  facilities  for  the  shipment  of 
the  coal  of  the  Sanborn  Mines,"  he  continued,  "  is  all  the 
more  remarkable  when  it  is  known  that  while  this  very 
correspondence  was  going  on,  its  sidings  between  Phillips- 
ville  and  Williamstown  were  full  of  empty  cars,  and  when 
it  is  also  known  that  the  Pequot  Coal  Company  was  work- 
ing on  full  time  and  shipping  to  New  York  City,  alone, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  cars  of  coal  a  day." 

"  We  had  contracts  with  the  railroad,"  snapped  Lo- 
ring.  "  We  forced  them  to  provide  for  us." 

"  So  had  the  Sanborn  Company  contracts,  Mr.  Lo~ 
ring,"  said  Gallatin. 

"  Really !  "  sneered  Loring. 
314 


BIG   BUSINESS 


Tooker  quickly  abstracted  a  paper  from  a  sheaf  and 
handed  it  to  Gallatin. 

"  Read  for  yourself." 

The  sneer  on  Loring's  lips  faded,  and  his  eyes  opened 
wider  as  he  read.  It  was  not  a  copy,  but  the  contract 
itself. 

"  I  have  also  a  volume  of  evidence  about  the  empty 
cars  which  verifies  my  statement.  Would  you  care  to  look 
over  it?  " 

"  No.     Go  on,"  growled  Loring. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Gallatin  went  on,  enunciating  his  words 
with  great  distinctness.  "  This  was  discrimination — of  a 
kind  which  at  this  time  is  not  popular  with  the  Goyern- 
ment  of  the  United  States." 

"  But  if  you'll  permit  me,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  Leuppold's 
suave  voice  broke  in,  "  what  has  this  to  do  with  the  San- 
born  injunction  suit?  And  how  can  my  client  be  held  in 
any  way  responsible  for  the  action  of  the  Lehigh  and 
Pottsville  Railroad  Company  for  its  failure  to  fulfill  its 
contracts  to  the  Sanborn  Company?  " 

Gallatin  raised  a  protesting  hand. 

"  I'm  coming  to  that,  Mr.  Leuppold.  In  a  moment,  sir. 
The  conditions  I  have  already  mentioned  have  forced  the 
Sanborn  Company  practically  to  shut  down.  Coal  is  being 
mined  and  a  few  cars  a  day  are  shipped,  but,  as  you  gen- 
tlemen are  well  aware,  dividends  have  been  passed  for  two 
years  and  the  value  of  the  stock  has  depreciated.  This 
much  for  the  conditions  which  have  caused  that  deprecia- 
tion. The  Pequot  Coal  Company,  taking  advantage  of  the 
low  market  value  of  the  shares,  has  made  an  offer  for  the 
property — an  offer,  gentlemen,  which  as  you  both  know, 
represents  not  one-twentieth  of  the  Sanborn  Company's 
holdings." 

"  I  can't  agree  with  that,"  put  in  Leuppold  quickly.; 
215 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  It  was  a  fair  offer,  accepted  by  the  Board  of  Directors 
of  the  Sanborn  Company,  Mr.  Sanborn  alone  dissenting." 

Gallatin  arose  and  picked  up  a  package  wrapped  in 
rubber  bands. 

"  I'm  ready  to  talk  about  that  Board  of  Directors 
now,  Mr.  Leuppold,"  he  said  quietly,  with  his  eyes  on 
Loring's  face,  "  and  I'm  also  ready  to  talk  about  the 
Board  of  Directors  of  the  Lehigh  and  Pottsville  Railroad 
Company." 

Henry  K.  Loring's  expression  was  immovable,  but  Mr. 
Leuppold's  fingers  were  already  at  his  watch-fob. 

"  I'm  going  to  lay  my  hand  on  the  table,  gentlemen," 
Gallatin  went  on  with  a  quiet  laugh.  "  I'm  going  to  show 
you  all  my  cards  and  let  them  play  themselves.  I'm  going 
to  prove  to  you  so  clearly  that  you  can't  doubt  the  accu- 
racy of  my  information  or  the  character  of  my  evidence 
that  I  am  aware  that  Henry  K.  Loring  has  at  the  pres- 
ent time  not  only  the  control  of  the  stock  of  the  Sanborn 
Mining  Company,  but  that  he  also  controls  a  voting 
majority  of  the  stock  of  the  Lehigh  and  Pottsville  Rail- 
road Company." 

Leuppold  laughed  outright. 

"  Absurd,  sir.  Your  statement  is  flattering  to  my 
client,  but  I  beg  that  you  will  confine  your  remarks  to 
the  bounds  of  reason." 

"  I  will  to  the  bounds  of  reason,  to  the  bounds  of  fact. 
It's  no  laughing  matter,  Mr.  Leuppold,  as  you'll  discover 
presently.  I  will  not  speak  of  Mr.  Loring's  connection 
with  the  railroad  for  a  moment.  Perhaps,  since  this  con- 
ference has  been  called  with  especial  reference  to  the  in- 
junction suit,  the  proof  of  Mr.  Loring's  majority 
stock  ownership  in  the  Sanborn  Company  will  be  suffi- 
cient." 

"  You  can't  prove  it  without  manufactured  evidence." 
316 


BIG  BUSINESS 


Gallatin  flushed.  "  Call  it  what  you  like,  it's  here — in 
my  possession.  The  majority  stock  of  the  Sanborn  Min-1 
ing  Company  is  now  owned  by  Henry  K.  Loring,  and  has 
been  voted  under  cover  for  the  benefit  of  the  Pequot  Coal 
Company." 

"  That's  a  grave  charge,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

"  So  grave  that  I  thought  it  fairer  to  Mr.  Loring  to 
have  him  learn  what  I  know,  before  bringing  the  matter 
into  court." 

"  You  have  proved  nothing  yet." 

Gallatin  opened  some  papers  and  laid  them  on  the 
table. 

"  I  have  here  an  affidavit  of  a  former  employee  of  Mr* 
Loring  which  I  propose  to  offer  in  evidence." 

"  Who?  "  growled  Loring. 

"  One  moment,  please.  I  have  also  an  abstract  from 
the  books  of  the  company  with  entries  showing  the  pur- 
chase of  stock,  the  amounts,  the  price  and  the  dates  of 
payment." 

Leuppold  leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  Even  you  must  know,  Mr.  Gallatin,  that  that's  not 
evidence." 

"  I'm  well  aware  of  that,  but  when  the  time  comes,  Mr. 
Leuppold,  I  intend  to  call  for  the  production  of  the 
original  books." 

Leupoold  raised  a  protesting  hand  and  then  said 
craftily : 

"  Those  books  are  lost,  Mr.  Gallatin." 

Gallatin  only  smiled  at  him. 

"  Thanks  for  that  information,  Mr.  Leuppold.  For 
that  being  the  case,  even  you  will  admit  that  my  copy 
is  admissible  in  secondary  evidence." 

Loring's  quick  glance  caught  Leuppold's.  The  point 
was  well  taken.  Leuppold  covered  his  confusion  with  a 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


magnificent   gesture   and   a   resumption   of  his  blandest 
manner. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  prove  that  these  are  copies 
from  the  books  ?  "  he  asked  easily. 

"  I  will  produce  that  evidence  at  the  proper  time." 

"  Produce  it  now " 

"  I  will,  if  necessary." 

"  That  is  the  weakness  of  your  case,  Mr.  Gallatin ; 
you  can't  produce  it,"  he  sneered. 

Gallatin  turned  to  the  chief  clerk  and  said :  "  The 
checks,  Tooker." 

GaUatin  removed  some  slips  of  paper  from  the  en- 
velope Tooker  handed  him,  and  held  them  carelessly  in  his 
fingers,  s»  that  the  two  men,  who  were  eying  them  eager- 
ly, could  see  the  name  of  the  bank  and  the  signature  at 
the  lower  right  hand  corner. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Loring  will  deny  his  own  signature?  " 
he  asked  quietly.  "  These  checks  I  hold  are  signed  with 
Mr.  Loring's  name,  a  signature  with  which  we  are  all 
familiar,  and  were  given  to  Mr.  Loring's  brokers  for  the 
purchase  of  Sanborn  stock.  I  may  add  that  the  date 
of  entry  on  the  books  of  the  company  in  each  case  corre- 
sponds with  the  date  on  the  checks,  as  does  the  amount." 

He  stepped  to  Loring's  side  and  held  several  of  the 
checks  up  just  beyond  his  reach. 

"  That's  not  my  signature,"  said  Loring. 

Gallatin  handed  the  checks  to  Tooker. 

"  You're  not  convinced  ?  " 

"  No,    It's  a  forgery ." 

"  Then  I'll  find  other  means  of  convincing  ycu.  Per- 
haps, if  I  produced  a  man  who  saw  you  sign  those 
checks " 

Loring  had  risen  to  his  feet  and  spoke  but  one  word. 
It  was  the  popular  one  for  the  infernal  regions. 

318 


BIG   BUSINESS 


Gallatin  smiled.  And  then  to  the  chief  clerk,  "  Tooker, 
show  Mr.  Markham  in,  please." 

The  situation  had  gotten  beyond  the  control  of  Mr. 
Leuppold,  who  was  completely  nonplused  by  Mr.  Galla- 
tin's  rapidity,  succinctness  and  damnable  accuracy;  but 
he  made  one  desperate  effort  to  regain  his  lost  ground. 

"  Markham,  a  broken  man,  a  drunkard,  a  gam- 
bler  " 

"  But  once  Mr.  Loring's  secretary,"  Gallatin  broke 
in  significantly.  "  Wait,  Mr.  Leuppold." 

In  a  moment  Mr.  Markham  entered.  He  was  a  tall 
man,  with  keen  eyes,  hawklike  nose  and  a  weak  mouth. 
As  he  entered  Loring  turned  toward  the  door  and  the  eyes 
of  the  two  men  met,  Loring's  curious,  the  newcomer's 
eager  and  unflinching. 

"  Mr.  Markham,"  asked  Gallatin,  "  do  you  kaow  this 
gentleman?  " 

"  Yes.     He  is  Henry  K.  Loring." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  these  checks  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  drew  them  and  saw  Mr.  Loring  sign  them." 

"And  this  affidavit?" 

"  I  wrote  it." 

"  And  this  abstract  of  the  books  of  the  Sanborn  Com- 
pany? " 

"  I  have  seen  it." 

"Is  it  correct?" 

"  In  every  particular." 

"  All  right.  That  will  be  all  for  the  present.  Will 
you  remain  outside?  " 

"  Wait,  sir !  "  Leuppold's  voice  rang  out.  "  I  haven't 
finished  with  Mr.  Markham  yet." 

"  You'll  have  the  opportunity  of  questioning  him  at 
the  proper  time  and  place,"  said  Gallatin  smoothly. 
"  That  will  be  all,  Mr.  Markham." 

319 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


"  I  protest,  Mr.  Gallatin,  against  your  methods  of 
conducting  this  meeting,"  said  Leuppold,  rising  and  ex- 
tending a  quavery  arm.  "  You  bring  as  your  chief  evi- 
dence a  man  once  in  the  employ  of  my  client,  a  discredited 
clerk,  a  man  discharged  for  drunkenness,  for  incompe- 
tence, for  dishonesty." 

"  No — for  honesty,  Mr.  Leuppold,"  Gallatin  broke  in 
hotly.  "  That  was  why  he  was  discharged.  He  was  too 
honest  to  understand  the  ethics  of  big  business  and  his 
utility  was  at  an  end.  So  Mr.  Loring  let  him  go.  That 
was  a  mistake.  He  knew  too  much,  Mr.  Leuppold." 

"  You'll  have  a  chance  to  prove  what  he  knows,  sir. 
There  won't  be  much  difficulty  in  discrediting  his  testi- 
mony  ' 

"  You're  making  a  mistake,  Mr.  Leuppold,"  broke  in 
Gallatin,  his  voice  now  thundering.  "  The  question  here 
isn't  so  much  one  of  law  as  it  is  one  of  morals.  That 
injunction  may  be  dissolved  by  the  Court  of  Appeals ; 
but  I  give  you  my  word  that,  if  you  insist  on  carrying 
through  that  sale  of  the  Sanborn  Mines  to  the  Pequot  Coal 
Company,  I  propose  to  charge  your  client  and  the  di- 
rectors of  the  Sanborn  Company  with  conspiracy,  and 
I'll  convict  them — just  as  sure  as  the  Lord  made  little 
apples !  " 

He  dominated  the  situation  and  felt  it  in  the  short 
hush  that  followed  his  concluding  remarks,  and  in  the 
rapid  revolution  of  Leuppold's  watch  charm.  Loring  had 
sunk  back  in  his  chair,  both  of  his  great  hands  clasping 
its  arms,  his  gaze  on  Gallatin's  face,  critical  but  smiling. 
What  he  saw  there  evidently  brought  a  realization  that 
Mr.  Gallatin  held  the  whip  hand ;  for  as  Leuppold  began 
speaking  again,  he  moved  one  of  his  hands  through  the 
air  and  rose. 

"  Wait !  "  he  said.  He  took  two  or  three  paces  across 
the  room,  between  window  and  door  and  then  stood,  his 

320 


BIG   BUSINESS 


hands  in  his  trousers  pockets,  fumbling  at  his  keys.  It 
was  at  least  five  minutes  before  he  spoke  again.  But 
at  last  he  stopped  in  front  of  Gallatin  and  looked  at 
him  from  head  to  toe,  and  suddenly  to  every  one's  sur- 
prise, broke  out  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Mr.  Gallatin,  you've  beaten  me." 

Success  had  come  so  quickly  and  the  end  of  the  case 
so  suddenly  that  Gallatin  looked  at  his  adversary,  not 
certain  whether  to  believe  his  own  ears,  and  half  suspecting 
some  kind  of  a  ruse  or  trick,  the  art  of  which  Henry  K. 
iLoring,  as  he  knew,  was  past  grand  master,  when  he  went 
on  again. 

"  I  don't  propose  to  ask  you  how  you  found  Mr. 
Markham  out  in  Illinois,  or  to  try  and  learn  what  your 
methods  were  in  getting  together  all  this  evidence.  I 
know  it's  there  and  that's  enough.  I  did  write  those 
checks  and  the  abstracts  from  the  books  are  doubtless 
correct.  I  suppose,"  he  laughed  again,  "  your  evidence 
of  my  connection  with  the  Lehigh  and  Pottsville  is  quite 
tangible?  " 

"  Quite  tangible,"  repeated  Gallatin,  scarcely  conceal- 
ing a  smile. 

"  Then  all  I  have  to  say,  sir,  is  that  you  are  a  very 
extraordinary  young  man,  a  very  useful  young  man  to 
your  clients,  a  very  disappointing  one  to  your  adver- 
saries." And  then  turning  to  Leuppold:  "  You  may  con- 
test, if  you  like,  Mr.  Leuppold.  /  won't.  This  case  is 
one  for  settlement." 

Then  he  turned  to  Gallatin  again,  and  offered  his 
huge  hand,  while  the  younger  man,  still  doubtful,  eyed 
him  keenly. 

'  You  and  I  had  words  some  time  ago.  I'm  sorry  for 
them.  Will  you  forgive  me?  " 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  genuineness  of  his  con- 
trition. 

.  321 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Willingly,  Mr.  Loring,"  he  said. 

Their  fingers  clasped  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  I  underestimated  you,  Mr.  Gallatin,"  he  went  on 
again  slowly.  "  I  don't  often  make  a  mistake  in  my 
judgment  of  men,  but  I  did  of  you.  I'm  a  self-made 
man  and  people  will  tell  you  I'm  a  little  proud  of  the 
job.  But  I'm  not  too  proud  to  tell  you  that  you've  been 
a  little  too  clever  for  me.  I  know  when  I'm  beaten  and 
I'm  not  afraid  to  say  so.  We'll  fix  this  thing  up.  I  don't 
want  all  the  coal  in  Pennsylvania.  I  ovrn  sixty  per  cent, 
of  the  Sanborn  stock.  Sanborn's  crowd  owns  the  rest. 
I'll  sell  out  twenty  per  cent,  to  some  man  agreed  on  and 
we'll  make  him  president." 

"  At  the  present  market  figure,  Mr.  Loring?  "  asked 
Gallatin  shrewdly. 

Loring  rubbed  his  head  and  smiled. 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  he  muttered  at  last.  But 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  e3Tes  as  he  asked.  "  How  would 
you  like  that  job,  Mr.  Gallatin?  " 

Gallatin  grinned. 

"  I'd  take  it,  if  I  could  get  enough  cars  to  make  it 
profitable." 

"  I  reckon  you  can  make  it  profitable  enough,  for 
everybody,"  he  growled  jovially.  "We've  got  to  have 
you  in  with  us,  and  that's  all  there  is  about  it.  Will  you 
accept?  " 

"  With  Sanborn's  consent,  yes." 

"  We'll  fix  Sanborn,  all  right,"  he  finished.  "  Come 
to  my  office  some  time,  Mr.  Gallatin,  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

Gallatin  followed  the  two  men  to  the  elevator,  while 
Tooker,  after  the  door  was  closed,  moved  from  one  leg 
to  the  other  in  what  he  fondly  believed  to  be  a  dance  of 

joy- 

322 


XXVII 

MR.   LORING   REFLECTS 

HENRY  K.  LORING  sat  back  in  his  machine, 
homeward  bound,  his  head  deep  in  the  collar  of  his 
overcoat,  his  eyes  under  their  shaggy  brows  peer- 
ing out  of  the  windows  of  the  limousine.  His  heavy  hands, 
one  over  the  other,  grasped  the  handle  of  his  cane,  which 
stood  upright  between  his  firmly  planted  feet.  He  looked 
out  of  the  windows  at  the  quickly  changing  scene,  but  his 
eyes  saw  nothing.  There  was  a  frown  at  his  brow,  his 
lips  were  drawn  firmly  together  and  a  casual  glance  might 
have  lent  to  the  belief  that  the  great  operator  was 
weighted  with  a  more  than  usually  heavy  financial  bur- 
den. But  a  closer  inspection  would  have  shown  a  slight 
upward  twist  of  his  lips  and  scarcely  perceptible  pucker- 
ing of  the  wrinkles  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  For  a  man 
whose  business  affairs  had  on  that  day  been  subjected 
to  the  searching  inquisition  that  Mr.  Gallatin  had  put 
them  to,  he  seemed  to  be  taking  life  rather  good-naturedly. 
To  tell  the  truth  he  was  thinking  of  the  futile  efforts 
of  the  elder  Leuppold  in  trying  to  stem  the  tide  which 
had  set  so  strongly  against  him.  He  had  gone  over  Mr. 
Gallatin's  evidence  at  the  conference  point  by  point,  and 
the  hours  had  only  confirmed  him  in  the  realization  that 
this  young  man,  whom  he  had  scorned,  had  given  the  oily 
and  ingenious  Leuppold  a  very  unpleasant  morning;  for 
"Wriggle  as  Leuppold  might,  there  had  been  no  escaping 
the  young  man's  clear-headed  statements,  and  the  dan- 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


gerous  nature  of  his  evidence.  Henry  K.  Loring  was  a 
good  fighter,  a  shrewd  judge  of  men,  and  the  thing  that 
most  bothered  him  at  the  present  moment  was,  not  that 
he  had  been  obliged  to  compromise  the  Sanborn  case, 
but  that  he  should  have  been  so  mistaken  in  the  character 
and  abilities  of  Philip  Gallatin.  He  couldn't  understand 
it  at  all,  and  it  hurt  his  pride  in  his  own  judgment.  Was 
this  sharp  young  man  with  the  lean  face,  the  keen  eye 
and  the  quick  incisive  tones  of  confidence  in  himself,  was 
this  brilliant  hard-working  young  lawyer  who  had  been 
clever  enough  to  outwit  Henry  Loring  at  his  own  game, 
was  this  Phil  Gallatin,  the  club  loafer,  at  whose  name 
men  had  wagged  their  heads  or  shrugged  their  shoulders 
in  pity  or  contempt?  It  didn't  seem  possible.  There 
was  a  mistake  somewhere.  Was  this  the  young  man 
who ? 

He  sat  straight  up  suddenly  as  the  thought  came  to 
him.  By  George !  This  was  Jane's  young  man !  The 
fellow  who  had  found  Jane  up  in  the  woods !  Who  had 
followed  her  around  and  made  love  to  her!  The  fellow 
Jane  had  been  in  love  with  until  he,  Loring,  had  opened 
her  eyes  and  packed  him  out  of  the  house  about  his 
business.  That  was  too  bad.  Loring  was  sorry  about 
that  now.  He  had  done  Gallatin  an  injustice.  Curious 
that  he  should  have  made  such  a  mistake.  He  would 
have  to  rectify  it  somehow — with  Jane. 

What  was  the  trouble?  Oh,  yes,  a  woman — that  was 
what  had  turned  Jane  against  him.  A  woman — well?  It 
wasn't  the  first  time  a  man  had  been  led  off  by  a  woman. 
What  of  it?  The  Gallatin  with  whom  he  had  recently 
become  acquainted  wasn't  the  kind  of  a  fellow  who  would 
let  any  woman  get  the  best  of  him.  That  was  his  own 
affair,  anyway.  He,  Loring,  would  have  to  talk  to  Jane. 
Gallatin  was  all  right.  He  had  quit  drinking,  too,  the 

324. 


MR.   LORING  REFLECTS 

younger  Leuppold  had  said.  Any  young  fellow  who 
could  work  up  a  case  like  that  under  cover  and  drive  a 
man  like  Henry  K.  Loring  to  the  wall  was  good  enough 
for  him!  That  was  the  kind  of  a  man  he  wanted  for 
Jane,  just  the  kind  of  man  to  take  up  the  game  where 
he  would  leave  it  and  hold  the  great  Loring  interests  to- 
gether. What  did  Jane  want  anyhow?  She  had  loved 
Phil  Gallatin  once.  Her  mother  had  told  him  so.  And 
now  she  had  settled  on  Coleman  Van  Duyn !  Hell ! 

He  got  down  at  his  own  door  with  a  sudden  resolve 
to  find  out  just  how  things  stood  with  Jane  and  Coley 
Van  Duyn.  Mrs.  Loring  had  wanted  that  match.  It 
wasn't  any  of  Loring's  choosing.  She  had  wanted  an 
old  Dutch  ancestry.  She'd  be  getting  it  with  Coley  and 
that  was  about  all  she  would  get.  Jane  had  been  ex- 
pected back  with  the  Ledyards  from  Virginia  this  morn- 
ing. Perhaps  it  wasn't  too  late  for  her  father  to  step 
into  the  breach  and  repair  the  damage  he  had  done. 

In  reply  to  his  question  of.  the  man  in  the  hall,  he 
learned  that  Miss  Loring  had  returned  from  the  South 
during  the  morning,  but  that  she  had  been  in  her  room 
all  day.  Henry  K.  Loring  climbed  the  marble  stairs  and 
went  along  the  landing  to  Mrs.  Loring's  room.  He  found 
her  lying  on  the  divan,  a  handkerchief  crumpled  in  her 
hands,  her  face  stained  with  tears.  A  look  of  resigna- 
tion that  was  half  a  frown  came  into  Loring's  face.  Like 
many  another  man,  big  in  his  walks  abroad,  he  lost  some 
stature  in  the  presence  of  a  tearful  wife. 

At  his  entrance  she  straightened  and  said  irritably, 
"  I  thought  you  were  never  coming." 

"  I  was  detained."  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Aren't 
you  going  to  dress?  " 

"  No.     I'm  going  to  have  my  dinner  brought  up." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

325 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"Oh,  what  isn't  the  matter?     Jane,  of  course!" 

"Jane!" 

"  I  can't  make  her  out  at  all.  She  came  back  from 
Warrenton  this  morning  and  went  immediately  to  her 
room.  I  went  in  this  afternoon  again.  She  was  looking 
miserably  unhappy,  and  when  I  began  talking  to  her  she, 
burst  into  tears " 

"  Nerves  ?  "  he  queried. 

*'  Oh,  I  don't  know.  She  hasn't  been  herself  for  some 
time.  She's  looking  very  badly." 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  that.  What  do  you  think  the  trouble 
is?" 

Mrs.  Loring  sank  back  with  a  sigh. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  never  did  understand  Jane,  and 
I  don't  suppose  I  ever  shall.  She  says  she  isn't  going 
to  anything  this  spring — that  she  wants  to  go  abroad, 
away  from  everybody.  And,  finally,  when  I  pressed  her 
— she  told  me  that  she  had  given  Coleman  Van  Duyn  his 
conge.  Think  of  it !  " 

The  poor  lady  rattled  on  while  Loring  turned  his 
back  and  walked  the  length  of  the  room  to  hide  a  smile 
which  grew  suddenly  at  his  lips.  When  she  had  finished 
speaking,  he  returned  and  questioned  again. 

"Why  did  she  change  her  mind?     Do  you  know?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  has  changed  her  mind.  I  don't 
believe  that  she  has  ever  cared  for  Mr.  Van  Duyn.  It 
was  all  a  mask  to  hide  her  real  feelings.  I'm  sure  she 
still  loves  that  worthless  Gallatin !  " 

Loring's  eyebrows  lifted,  his  gaze  roved  and  his  lips 
were  quickly  compressed.  Then  his  brows  tangled. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Everything  makes  me  think  it — everything — from 
the  manner  in  which  she  first  confessed  her  love  for  him 
to  me  to  the  curious  way  she  has  been  treating  Mr.  Van 

326 


MR.   LORING   REFLECTS 

Duyn.  He  spoke  about  the  matter  only  last  week.  Poor 
fellow!  He's  beginning  to  look  very  badly.  Jane  hasn't 
treated  him  fairly." 

"  That  depends.    They  were  never  engaged." 

Mrs.  Loring  raised  herself  on  one  elbow,  her  eyes 
searching  her  husband's  face  in  surprise. 

"  There  was  an  understanding." 

"  Between  you  and  Van  Duyn.  Jane  never  con- 
sented." 

"  Henry,  I  don't  understand  you.  You've  let  this 
thing  go  on  without  speaking.  You  approved 

"  No,  I  didn't  approve,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I  merely 
acquiesced." 

Mrs.  Loring  showed  signs  of  inward  agitation. 

"  Oh,  I  give  her  up.  I've  done  the  best  I  could.  She 
has  behaved  very  badly  and  I — I  don't  know  what  to 
think  of  her."  She  began  sobbing  into  her  handkerchief 
and  renewed  her  familiar  plaint.  "  I  do  the  best  I  can 
for  her — for  you,  but  you're  always  going  against  me — 
both  of  you.  I've  tried  so  hard  this  winter — kept  going 
when  my  nerves  were  on  the  ragged  edge  of  collapse,  just 
because  I  thought  it  was  my  duty " 

"  There,  there,  Mother,  don't  be  foolish,"  said  Loring 
soothingly.  "  Jane  is  young,  too  young  to  marry  any- 
way. She'll  decide  some  day." 

"  No.  I  know  her.  She  makes  up  her  mind  to  a  thing 
and  she'll  cling  to  it  until  death.  She's  like  you  in  that 
way.  She  would  rather  die  than  change.  I  ought  to 
have  realized  that.  If  she  can't  marry  Phil  Gallatin,  she 
won't  marry  any  one.  Phil  Gallatin,"  she  cried,  "  the  least 
desirable  young  man  in  New  York,  a  man  without  a 
character,  without  friends,  the  last  of  a  tainted  stock, 
a  fortune  hunter,  dissolute " 

He  let  her  go  on  until  she  had  exhausted  both  her 
327 


THE   SILENT  BATTLE 


adjectives  and  her  nerves  while  he  listened  thoughtfully, 
and  then  asked, 

"  You're  sure  she  still  loves  Mr.   Gallatin  ?  " 

"  I've  tried  to  believe  that  she  would  forget  him — that 
she  would  learn  to  care  for  Mr.  Van  Duyn.  But  she 
hasn't.  She  has  never  been  the  same  girl  since  you  told 
her  about  that  dreadful  Jaffray  woman.  I'm  afraid  she'll 
be  sick — really  sick.  But  I  can't  do  anything.  What  can 
I  do?  "  The  poor  lady  looked  up  plaintively,  but  her 
husband  had  walked  to  the  window  and  was  looking  out 
into  the  Avenue. 

"  Humph!  "  he  grunted.  "  Lovesick,  eh?  There  ought 
to  be  a  cure  for  that." 

"What?" 

"  Let  her  marry  him." 

"  Henry !  "  Mrs.  Loring  sat  bolt  upright  on  her 
couch,  her  eyes  wide  with  incomprehension.  "  What  do 
you  mean?  " 

"  What  I  say,"  he  returned  calmly. 

"That— Jane — should— marry  Phil  Gallatin?" 

He  nodded. 

"  You're  mad !  "  she  said,  getting  up  and  facing  him. 
"  Stark  mad !  When  you  learned  about  them,  you  told 
me  you'd  rather  see  her  dead  than  married  to  him." 

"  Now  I'd  rather  see  her  married  to  him  than  dead. 
It's  simple  enough.  I've  changed  my  mind." 

"  Am  I  taking  leave  of  my  senses — or  are  you?  " 

"  Neither,  Mother,"  he  went  over  to  her,  his  huge 
frame  towering  above  her  small  body  as  his  mind  towered 
over  hers,  and  took  her  gently  by  the  elbows.  "  I've  made 
a  mistake.  So  have  you.  But  it's  not  too  late  to  mend 
it.  I  say  that  if  Jane  wants  Phil  Gallatin,  she  shall  have 
him." 

"  No,  no.    What  has  happened,  Henry?  " 
328 


MR.   LORING  REFLECTS 

"  I've  opened  my  eyes,  that's  all,  or  rather  Gallatin 
has  opened  them  for  me.  I'm  glad  he  did.  And  now  I'm 
going  to  open  yours.  Phil  Gallatin  is  a  full-sized  man. 
I  found  that  out  to-day — a  man,  every  inch  of  one.  I 
don't  care  about  his  past.  /  wasn't  anything  to  brag 
about  when  I  was  a  kid,  and  you  know  that,  too.  I  didn't 
amount  to  a  hill  of  beans  until  my  father  died  and  I  went 
up  against  it  good  and  hard.  I  was  down  to  bedrock, 
as  Phil  Gallatin  was,  until  I  got  kicked  once  too  often, 
and  then  I  learned  to  kick  back,  and  I've  been  kicking 
back  ever  since.  I  don't  care  about  Phil  Gallatin's  past. 
That  belongs  to  him.  The  only  thing  that  matters  about 
the  man  Jane  marries  is  his  future.  That's  hers." 

Loring  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  rug,  his  bulk,  physical  and  mental,  dom- 
inating Mrs.  Loring's  tears. 

"  Listen  to  me.  I've  let  you  go  on  with  your  plans 
for  Jane  and  I  haven't  said  anything,  because  I  knew  that 
when  the  time  came  for  Jane  to  marry,  your  plans 
wouldn't  amount  to  much  and  mine  wouldn't  either.  Oh, 
I've  been  looking  on.  I've  been  watching  this  Van  Duyn 
affair.  I've  never  thought  Jane  would  ever  marry  a 
nonentity  like  Van  Duyn.  If  I  had  thought  so,  I  guess 
I  might  have  worried.  But  I  didn't  worry  because  I  never 
thought  she  did  want  to  marry  him.  It  seems  I  was 
right,"  he  chuckled. 

He  waited  a  moment  as  though  expecting  an  inter- 
ruption from  his  wife,  but  she  made  none,  and  only  sat  in 
hopeless  uncertainty  listening  dumbly. 

"  For  all  her  inexperience,  Jane  has  an  old  head, 
Mother.  This  splendor  we're  living  in,  her  success  in 
society,  the  flattery  and  compliments  haven't  changed  her 
any.  And  she's  not  going  to  let  anybody  make  a  fool 
of  her.  She  sees  through  people  better  than  you  do  and 

329 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


she  doesn't  make  many  mistakes.  I  ought  to  have  known 
she  wouldn't  have  fallen  in  love  with  Phil  Gallatin  if  there 
hadn't  been  something  to  him.  I'll  give  her  credit  for 
that " 

"  What  makes  you  think  he's  worthy  of  her?  "  Mrs. 
Loring  broke  in.  "  You  talk  of  his  future.  What  future 
can  there  be  for  a  man  with  a  habit ; 

"  Wait !  "  he  commanded.  "  As  to  that — he's  quit, 
do  you  understand?  Quit  it  altogether.  I'm  just  as  sure 
of  that  as  I  am  that  Jane's  judgment  was  better  than 
mine,  so  sure  that  I'm  willing  to  stake  Jane's  future  on 
it.  You  needn't  ask  me  why  I  know  it,  but  I  do.  He's 
made  good — with  me  and  he's  made  good  with  himself." 

And  while  she  listened  he  told  her  of  the  events  of  the 
morning  which  had  resulted  in  the  failure  of  his  financial 
project  and  of  Gallatin's  share  in  it. 

"  And  is  this  a  reason  ?  You're  willing  to  forgive  him 
his  sins,  his  evil  reputation,  and  take  him  into  your  house 
as  the  husband  of  your  only  child,  because  he  stands  in 
the  way  of  your  making  a  lot  of  money?  I  don't  under- 
stand." 

"  There's  a  lot  you  don't  understand.  You  and  I 
Idon't  use  the  same  kind  of  mental  machinery.  But  I  want 
you  to  know  that  any  boy  of  his  age  who's  got  the  nerve 
to  tackle  a  big  game  the  way  he  did  that  one  and  win 
out  against  a  man  of  my  caliber  is  the  kind  of  a  young 
man  I  want  on  my  side.  He's  the  kind  of  a  young  man 
I've  been  looking  for  ever  since  I  went  into  the  coal  busi- 
ness, and  I'm  not  going  to  let  him  go  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  But  his  morals !  You  must  know  what  people  say 
about  him,  that  he's " 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  say  about  him,"  growled 
Loring.  "  Half  of  the  world  is  lying,  and  the  other  half 
listening.  I'm  glad  he  isn't  a  willy-boy.  It's  the  fellow 

330 


MR.   LORING   REFLECTS 

who  has  to  fight  temptations  that  learns  the  meaning  of 
victory.  There  are  no  airholes  in  the  steel  that's  been 
through  the  blast,  and  that  boy  has  been  through  the 
blast.  I  can  read  it  in  his  face.  He  couldn't  square  up 
to  me  the  way  he  did  if  there  was  any  weakness  in  him. 
He's  suffered,  but  it  hasn't  hurt  him  any.  He's  found 
himself.  I'm  going  to  help  him.  See  here,  Janet,  I'm 
getting  older,  and  so  are  you.  I've  been  thinking  about 
it  some  lately.  I'm  a  pretty  rich  man  and  I'm  going 
to  be  richer.  But  do  you  think  I  want  to  turn  the  money 
I  leave  over  to  a  man  like  Coley  Van  Duyn  or  Dirwell 
De  Lancey  to  make  ducks  and  drakes  of?  Have  it  turned 
into  an  amusement  fund  for  the  further  debauching  of 
debauched  gentility?  Make  a  Trust  Fund  of  it  to  per- 
petuate the  Pink  Tea?  I  reckon  not.  I  haven't  worked 
all  these  years  for  nothing,  and  I'm  going  to  see  that 
Jane  doesn't  make  the  mistakes  of  other  rich  men's  chil- 
dren. I  don't  think  she  wants  to  anyway.  I've  always 
told  her  that  she  wouldn't  find  the  man  she's  going  to 
marry  walking  up  and  down  Fifth  Avenue.  The  man 
to  keep  my  estate  together  has  got  to  be  made  of  different 
stuff.  I've  found  him.  He's  an  ace  that  I  dropped  into 
the  discard  by  mistake,  but  I'm  going  to  play  him  just 
the  same.  I  want  him,  and  if  Jane  wants  him,  too,  I'm 
going  to  get  him  for  her." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  you.  I  can't  see 
yet "  Mrs.  Loring  wailed. 

Loring  stopped  beside  her  and  patted  her  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Janet.  I  know  what  I'm  about. 
You  leave  this  to  me.  Is  Jane  in  her  room?  I  want  to 
see  her." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Loring  in  tones  of  resignation. 
"  She's  there,  but  I  don't  think  she'd  see  you,  even  if  she 

331 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


knew  what  you  wanted  to  talk  about.     To-morrow,  per- 
haps." 

Loring  shrugged  his  massive  shoulders.  "  Oh,  all 
right,"  he  growled,  and  made  his  way  to  his  own  dressing- 
room.  He  held  the  keys  to  the  situation  in  his  hand, 
and  manlike  wanted  to  use  them  without  delay,  to  unlock 
the  door  that  barred  the  way  to  happiness  for  Jane,  to 
act  at  once  upon  the  inspiration  that  had  come  to  him 
and  settle  for  all  time  the  problem  of  the  future.  But 
he  took  his  wife's  advice  and  postponed  the  talk  with  his 
daughter,  wondering  at  the  ways  of  women.  He  dined 
alone  and  went  to  his  study  early,  sat  at  his  desk  and 
wrote  the  following  note  to  Philip  Gallatin. 

DEAR  MR.  GALLATIN: 

Our  meeting  this  morning  was  so  brief  and  so  public  that 
I  was  prevented  from  speaking  to  you  as  freely  as  I  would 
have  liked.  I've  done  you  a  wrong — an  injustice,  and  I  want 
to  do  what  I  can  to  set  the  matter  right,  with  respect  to  your 
future  relations  with  me  and  with  my  family.  I  have  already 
done  what  I  can  and  I  am  sure  that  both  Mrs.  Loring  and 
my  daughter  will  gladly  welcome  you  as  a  guest  to  our  house 
whenever  you  may  call. 

I  hope  this  will  be  soon,  Mr.  Gallatin.  I  only  wanted  to 
put  myself  on  record  with  you  that  you  may  be  assured  that 
there  will  be  no  further  misunderstandings  on  your  part  of 
our  intentions  toward  you. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

HENRY  K.  LORING. 

The  note  written,  he  sealed  it  and  rang  for  Hastings. 

"  Have  this  note  delivered  at  once.  Try  the  Cosmos 
Club  and,  if  Mr.  Gallatin  is  not  there,  find  him.'* 

This  burden  off  his  broad  shoulders,  Loring  smiled, 
turned  on  his  reading  lamp,  took  some  newly  acquired 
snuff  boxes  out  of  a  cabinet  and  under  his  magnifying 

332 


MR.   LORING   REFLECTS 

glass,  proceeded  to  enjoy  them.  It  was  in  the  midst  of 
this  pleasant  occupation  that  some  time  later,  he  was 
interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  his  daughter.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  pale  blue  lounging  robe,  and  her  bedroom 
slippers  made  no  sound  on  the  heavy  floor  covering,  but 
the  rustle  of  her  draperies  caused  him  to  look  up. 

"  Hello,  Jane !  "  he  said,  kissing  her.  "  Glad  to  see 
you,  child.  You  slipped  in  like  a  ghost.  Feeling  any 
better?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right,"  she  said  wearily.  "  Mother  said 
you  wanted  to  see  me." 

Loring  put  down  his  magnifying  glass  and  turned 
toward  her. 

"Yes,  I  did.  Natural,  isn't  it?  I  haven't  had  a 
chance  to  for  a  month."  He  made  her  turn  so  that  he 
could  look  into  her  face.  "  You're  not  looking  right. 
Your  eyes  are  big  as  saucers.  What's  the  matter?  Too 
much  gayety?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  Daddy.  I'm  a  little  tired,  that's  all. 
I  need  a  rest." 

Her  father  examined  her  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
and  then  drew  her  down  on  a  chair  near  him. 

"  Jane,  I've  been  thinking  about  you  lately.  We've 
all  been  so  busy  this  winter,  you  and  mother,  with  your 
dances  and  the  opera,  and  I  with  business,  that  I'm  afraid 
we've  been  drifting  apart.  I  don't  like  it.  You  don't 
ever  come  in  here  to  see  me  the  way  3rou  used  to." 

"  I  haven't  had  time,"  she  evaded. 

"  That  isn't  it,  daughter.  I  know.  It's  something 
else.  Something  has  come  between  us.  I've  felt  it  and 
I  feel  it  still." 

She  opened  her  eyes  wide  and  looked  at  him  and  then 
looked  away. 

"  That's  the  truth  and  you  know  it,  daughter.  Some- 
333 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


thing  has  come  between  us.     I've  missed  those  talks  with 

O 

you.  They  used  to  keep  me  in  touch  with  the  gentler  side 
of  life,  sort  of  humanized  me  somehow,  made  me  a  little 
softer,  a  little  gentler  the  next  day.  I've  wanted  you 
often,  Jane,  but  I  didn't  know  how  to  say  so.  And  so 
I  got  along  without  you.  You've  never  quite  forgiven 
me,  Jane  ?  " 

Jane  was  pulling  at  the  laces  of  her  tea-gown  with 
thumb  and  forefinger,  but  she  didn't  look  up  as  she  asked, 

"  Forgiven  you  for  what,  Daddy?  " 

"  For  coming  between  you  and  Phil  Gallatin,"  he  said 
gently. 

She  started  a  trifle  and  then  went  on  picking  at  the 
lace  on  her  frock. 

"  Oh,  that,"  she  said  quietly.  "  You  had  to  do  that. 
I'm  glad  you  did." 

"  No,"  he  interrupted.  "  You're  not  glad,  Jane. 
Neither  am  I.  I  did  what  I  thought  was  my  duty,  but 
it  has  made  a  difference  with  us  both.  I'm  sorry." 

"  Sorry?     Why?  " 

"  Because  it  has  made  you  unhappy — and  resentful." 

"  I'm  not  resentful." 

"  Yes.  I've  felt  it.  Even  if  I'd  been  justified,  you 
would  still  resent  it." 

"But  you  were  justified,  Daddy,  weren't  you?"  she 
asked. 

She  turned  her  gaze  full  on  his  face  and  the  pain  in 
her  eyes  hurt  him.  He  got  up  and  walked  the  length  of 
the  room  before  he  replied. 

"  I  did  what  I  thought  was  right.  I'd  probably  do 
the  same  thing  again  under  similar  circumstances.  I — I 
didn't  think  Mr.  Gallatin  the  kind  of  man  I  wanted  for 
you." 

She  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  looked  into  the  fire,  but 
334 


MR.   LORING   REFLECTS 

said  nothing.  Loving  came  close  to  her  and  laid  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"You  loved  him,  Jane?" 

She  didn't  reply. 

"  You  still  love  him,  daughter?  " 

Her  head  moved  slowly  from  side  to  side. 

"  No,"  she  muttered,  stiflingly,  "  no,  no." 

Loring  smiled  down  at  the  top  of  her  head. 

"Why  should  you  deny  it,  Jane?  What  would  you 
say  if  I  acknowledged  that  I  had  made  a  mistake  in  judg- 
ment, that  you  were  right  after  all,  that  Phil  Gallatin 
is  not  the  man  I  thought  him,  that  he's  worthy  in  every 
way  of  your  regard,  that  of  all  the  young  men  I've  met 
in  New  York  in  business  or  out  of  it,  he  is  the  one  man 
I  would  rather  have  marry  my  daughter?  " 

She  had  risen  and  was  leaning  toward  him,  pale  and 
trembling. 

"What — do — you — mean?"  she  whispered  fearfully. 

He  told  her. 

"  That  case  you  spoke  of ?  " 

"  He  beat  me — fairly — and  he  beat  me  badly,  so  badly 
that  I  can't  afford  to  have  him  against  me.  I've  taken 
him  into  the  business.  I  can't  afford  to  be  without  him." 

"  Then — what  you  said  about  him " 

"  I  was  fooled,  child,  completely  fooled.  We  thought 
he  was  a  joke.  We  laughed  at  him  and  all  the  while  he 
was  out  West  working,  quietly,  skillfully,  diligently  piling 
up  his  evidence.  He's  made  good,  Jane,  and  I've  told  him 
so.  I've  written  him  a  note  to-night,  a  note  of  apology 
for  my  share  in  his  unhappiness,  telling  him  that  I  was 
sorry  for  what  had  happened  and  telling  him  that  he 
would  be  a  welcome  visitor  to  my  house " 

"  Daddy !  "  Jane  had  straightened  and  now  glanced 
fearfully  toward  the  door  as  though  she  expected  to  see 

335 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Phil  Gallatin  at  any  moment  coming  through  the  curtains. 
"  You  had  no  right  to  do  that !  I  will  not  see  him. 
Whatever  his  business  relations  with  you,  you  have  no 
right  to  force  him  on  me.  I  have  known  for  a  long  time 
that  he  was  clever,  that  he  could  make  his  way  in  the 
world  if  he  wanted  to,  but  your  acceptance  of  him  changes 
nothing  with  me." 

"  But  you  love  him,"  he  persisted. 

"  No,  no,"  she  protested.  "  I  could  never  love  a  man 
who  had  once  been  faithless — never  forgive  him — never 
even  in  death.  That  a  man  is  successful  in  the  world  is 
all  you  men  care  about.  Oh,  I  know  you.  Because  he's 
matched  his  brain  against  yours  and  beaten  you,  you 
think  he's  a  demigod;  but  that  doesn't  change  the  heart 
in  him,  the  lips  that  swear  love  eternal  while  they're  kiss- 
ing another " 

"  Lies !  "  broke  in  Loring  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "  I 
don't  believe  that  story." 

Jane  paused  and  examined  him  calmly,  struggling  for 
her  control.  When  she  spoke  -her  voice  had  sunk  to 
a  trembling  note  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

"  Can  you  prove  that  story  was  a  lie?  " 

"Prove  it?     No.     But  I  believe  it  was." 

"  You  didn't  believe  so  once.  Have  you  heard  any- 
thing to  make  you  change  your  opinion?  "  she  insisted. 

He  was  tempted  to  lie  but  thought  better  of  it,  and 
his  hesitation  cost  him  victory. 

Jane  turned  toward  the  door.  "  I'm  going  away  some- 
where— abroad,  if  you'll  let  me,  away  from  here.  I  will 
not  see  Mr.  Gallatin — ever.  I  despise  him — utterly." 

She  left  her  father  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
his  mouth  agape,  and  eyes  staring  at  the  door  through 
which  she  had  disappeared.  Keen  as  he  was,  there  were 

336 


MR.   LORING   REFLECTS 

still  some  things  in  the  world,  he  discovered,  about  which 
he  needed  information. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Loring  received  a  polite  note  from 
Mr.  Gallatin  which  still  further  mystified  him.  Mr.  Gal- 
latin  thanked  him  for  his  kind  expressions  of  good  will 
and  expressed  the  intention  of  studying  further  to  de- 
serve them ;  but  hoped  that  Mr.  Loring  would  comprehend 
that  reasons  which  it  were  better  not  to  mention,  would 
make  it  impossible  for  him  to  take  advantage  of  Mr. 
Loring's  personal  kindness  in  his  cordial  invitation. 

Henry  Loring  was  on  the  point  of  tearing  up  the 
note  in  disgust  but  thought  better  of  it.  Instead,  with 
a  subtlety  which  showed  that  he  had  not  yet  lost  the 
knack  of  taking  advantage  of  the  lesser  lessons  of  life, 
he  left  it  obtrusively  upon  the  dressing  table  in  Mrs.  Lor- 
ing's boudoir,  where  later,  in  her  mother's  absence,  Jane 
found  it. 


037 


XXVIII 

THE    LODESTAR 

APRIL  dissolved  in  mist  and  rain  and  the  flowers  of 
May  were  blossoming.  Nellie  Pennington,  who  had 
not  yet  despaired,  and  Nina  Jaffray,  who  had,  were 
driving  in  the  Park  in  Mrs.  Pennington's  victoria.  For  two 
months  Mrs.  Pennington  had  been  paying  Nina  more  than 
usual  attention.  To  begin  with  she  liked  her  immensely 
as  she  had  always  done.  Nina's  faults  she  believed  to  be 
the  inevitable  result  of  her  education  and  environment, 
for  Nina  was  the  daughter  of  a  Trust,  and  was  its  only 
indulgence.  The  habit  of  getting  what  she  wanted  was 
in  her  blood  and  she  simply  couldn't  understand  being 
balked  in  anything.  But  Nina  was  beginning  slowly  and 
with  some  difficulty  to  grasp  the  essentials  of  Philip  Gal- 
latin's  character  and  the  permanence  of  his  reconstruc- 
tion; and  with  the  passage  of  time  and  event  Nina  had 
a  glimmering  of  the  true  caliber  of  his  mind,  all  of  which 
brought  out  with  unflattering  definiteness  her  own  frivol- 
ity and  gave  a  touch  of  farce-comedy,  with  which  she  had 
in  her  heart  been  far  from  investing  it,  to  her  uncon- 
ventional wooing. 

Nellie  Pennington  understood  her,  and  noted  with  no 
little  satisfaction  the  evidence  of  the  chastening  of  her 
spirit.  She  knew  now  beyond  all  doubt  that  had  it  not 
been  for  Nina,  the  reconciliation  of  Jane  and  Phil  Galla- 
tin  would  have  been  effected. 

She  knew,  too,  that  Nina  had  not  played  fair,  and 
guessed  by  what  means  Jane  had  been  victimized.  Indeed, 

338 


THE  LODESTAR 


Jane's  indifference  to  Nina  bore  all  tokens  of  intolerance, 
the  intolerance  of  the  pure  for  the  contaminated,  the  con- 
temptuous pity  of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty.  But  Mrs. 
Pennington  had  not  lived  in  vain,  and  a  talent  for  living 
her  own  life  according  to  an  accepted  code,  had  given  her 
a  kindly  insight  into  the  lives  of  others.  Whatever  Nina's 
faults,  she  had  never  merited  Jane's  pity  or  contempt. 
Jane  was  a  fool,  of  course,  but  so  was  Nina,  each  in  her 
own  way — a  fool ;  but  of  the  two  it  now  seemed  that  Nina 
was  the  lesser.  Nellie  Pennington  had  already  noticed 
signs  that  Nina  was  tired  of  the  game  and  knew  that 
if  Larry  Kane  played  his  own  trumps  with  care,  he  might 
still  win  the  odd  trick,  which  was  Nina.  But  as  far  as 
Jane  was  concerned,  Nellie  also  knew  that  Nina  was  ready 
to  die  at  her  guns,  for  a  dislike  once  born  in  Nina's  breast 
was  not  speedily  dispelled. 

Mrs.  Pennington  looked  up  at  the  obelisk  as  though 
in  the  hope  that  some  of  the  wisdom  of  its  centuries  might 
suddenly  be  imparted  to  her.  Then  she  asked,  "  Nina, 
why  don't  you  marry  Larry  Kane?  " 

Nina  Jaffray  smiled. 

"  And  confess  defeat?     Why?  " 

"  Better  confess  it  now  than  later." 

"Why  confess  it  at  all?" 

"  You'll  have  to  some  day.  You're  not  going  to  marry 
Phil,  you  know." 

"  No,  I'm  not  going  to  marry  Phil.  I  know  that  now. 
I  haven't  proposed  to  him  for  at  least  a  month — and  then 
he  was  quite  impolite — rude,  in  fact."  She  sighed.  "  Oh, 
I  don't  care,  but  I  don't  want  Jane  Loring  to  marry  him." 

"  She's  not  likely  to.  She's  as  hopelessly  stubborn  as 
you  are." 

Nellie  Pennington  waited  a  moment,  and  then  with  a 
laugh,  "  Nina,  you've  enjoyed  yourself  immensely,  haven't 

339 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


you?  Jane  is  such  an  innocent.  I'd  give  worlds  to  know 
what  you  said  to  her !  " 

Nina  laughed.    "  Would  you?  " 

"  Yes,  do  tell  me." 

"  I  will.  It's  very  amusing.  She  expected  me  to  lie, 
of  course.  So  I  simply  told  her.  the  truth." 

"  And  she  believed "  *• 

"  The  opposite." 

"  Of  course." 

Nellie  Pennington  laughed  up  at  the  passing  tree  tops. 

"  How  clever  of  you,  Nina !  You're  wasting  your 
time  single.  A  girl  of  your  talents  needs  an  atmosphere 
in  which  to  display  them." 

"  And  you  suggest  matrimony,"  said  Nina  scornfully. 

"  There's  always  your  husband,  you  know." 

"  But  Larry  isn't  an  atmosphere.     He's  too  tangible." 

"  All  men  are.    It's  their  chief  charm." 

"  H-m.  I've  never  thought  so.  I  shouldn't  have 
wanted  to  marry  Phil  if  he  had  been  tangible." 

"  Then  suppose  he  had — er — accepted  you  ?  " 

Nina  shrugged  and  crossed  her  knees. 

"  I  should  probably  have  hated  him  cordially." 

The  conversation  changed,  then  lagged,  and  by  the 
time  Nina's  home  was  reached  both  women  were  silent, 
Nina  because  she  was  bored,  Nellie  because  she  was 
thinking. 

"  Good-by,  dear,"  laughed  Nina,  as  she  got  down  at 
her  door.  "  Don't  be  surprised  at  anything  you  hear. 
I'm  quite  desperate,  so  desperate  that  I  may  even  take 
your  advice.  You'll  see  me  off  at  the  pier,  won't  you  ?  " 

Nellie  Pennington  nodded.  She  was  quite  sure  that 
it  was  better  for  everybody  that  Miss  Jaffray  should  be 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  water. 

The  week  following,  quite  by  chance  she  met  Henry 
340 


THE   LODESTAR 


K.  Loring  one  afternoon  in  the  gallery  at  the  Metropoli- 
tan where  the  ceramics  were.  An  emissary  from  the  office 
was  opening  the  cases  for  him  and  with  rare  delight  he 
was  examining  their  contents  with  a  pocket  glass.  She 
watched  him  for  a  while  and  when  the  great  man  re- 
linquished the  last  piece  of  Lang-Yao  sang  de  bceuf  and 
the  case  was  closed  and  locked,  she  intercepted  him  and 
led  him  off  to  a  bench  in  a  quiet  corner  where  she  laid 
before  him  the  result  of  a  week  of  deliberation.  He  had 
begun  by  being  bored,  for  there  was  a  case  of  the  tea-dust 
glazes  which  he  had  still  planned  to  look  over,  but  in 
a  moment  he  had  warmed  to  her  proposals  and  was  dis- 
cussing them  with  animation. 

Yes,  he  had  already  planned  to  go  to  the  Canadian 
woods  again  this  summer.  Mrs.  Loring  wanted  to  go 
abroad  this  year.  Mrs.  Loring  didn't  like  the  woods 
unless  he  rented  a  permanent  camp,  the  kind  of  place 
that  he  and  Jane  despised.  The  plan  had  been  discussed 
and  Jane  had  expressed  a  willingness  to  go.  But  at  Mrs. 
Loring's  opposition  the  matter  had  been  dropped.  But 
Loring  had  not  given  up  the  idea.  It  would  do  Jane  a  lot 
of  good,  he  admitted.  Mrs.  Pennington's  was  a  great 
plan,  a  brave  plan,  a  beautiful  plan,  one  that  did  credit  to 
her  sympathies  and  one  that  must  in  the  end  be  success- 
ful. He  would  manage  it.  He  would  take  the  matter  up 
at  once  and  arrange  for  the  same  guides  and  outfit  he 
had  had  last  year.  Would  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pennington 
come  as  his  guests?  Of  course.  Who  else — Mr.  Worth- 
ington  and  Colonel  Broadhurst?  But  could  Mr.  Kenyon 
be  relied  upon  to  do  his  share?  Very  well.  He  would 
leave  that  to  Mrs.  Pennington. 

The  next  afternoon,  at  Mrs.  Pennington's  request, 
John  Kenyon  called  at  her  house  in  Stuyvesant  Square, 
and  his  share  in  the  arrangement  was  explained  to  him. 

341 

\ 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


He  was  willing  to  do  anything  for  Phil  Gallatin's  happi- 
ness that  he  could,  of  course,  but  it  amused  him  to  learn 
how  the  agreeable  lady  had  taken  that  willingness  for 
granted,  and  how  she  waved  aside  the  difficulties  which,  as 
Kenyon  suggested,  might  be  encountered.  Phil  might  have 
other  plans.  He  could  be  obstinate  at  times.  It  might 
not  be  easy,  either,  to  get  Phil's  old  guide  for  the  pil- 
grimage. He  needed  a  rest  himself,  and  would  go  with 
Phil  himself,  if  by  doing  so  he  could  be  of  any  assistance. 
It  was  now  the  first  week  in  May.  He  would  see  Phil 
and  report  in  a  few  days. 

It  was  the  next  morning  at  the  office  when  Kenyon 
broached  the  matter  to  his  young  partner.  He  was  sur- 
prised that  Phil  fell  in  with  the  plan  at  once. 

"  Funny,"  said  Phil.  "  I  was  thinking  of  that  yes- 
terday. I  am  tired.  The  woods  will  do  me  a  lot  of  good, 
but  do  you  think  that  Hood  can  get  along  without  us  un- 
til August?" 

"  We'll  manage  in  some  way.  You  deserve  a  rest,  and 
I'm  going  to  take  one  whether  I  deserve  it  or  not.  Could 
you  get  that  guide  you  had  last  year,  what's  his  name — 
Joe ?  " 

"  Keegon.  I  could  try.  We'd  need  two,  but  Joe  can 
get  another  man.  I  have  the  address.  I'll  write  to-day." 

Gallatin  got  up  and  walked  across  the  room  to  the 
door,  where  he  stopped. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  fix  matters  with  Mr.  Loring " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  Kenyon  guardedly.  "  But 
you'd  better  be  sure  of  it.  He's  coming  here  to-morrow, 
isn't  he?" 

Gallatin  nodded  gravely,  and  then  thoughtfully  went 
out. 

That  night  John  Kenyon  dutifully  reported  in  Stuy- 
vesant  Square.  Mr.  Loring  also  dutifully  reported  there, 


THE   LODESTAR 


and  the  three  persons  completed  the  details  of  the  con- 
spiracy. 

So  it  happened  that  toward  the  middle  of  June,  Phil 
Gallatin  and  John  Kenyon  reached  the  "  jumping-off 
place"  in  the  Canadian  wilds.  No  two  "jumping-off 
places  "  are  alike,  but  this  one  consisted  of  three  or  four 
frame  dwellings  and  a  store,  all  squatted  on  the  high 
bank  of  a  small  river,  which  came  crystal-clear  from  the 
mystery  of  the  deep  woods  above.  John  Kenyon  got 
down  from  the  stage  that  had  driven  them  the  ten  miles 
from  the  nearest  railroad  station  and  stood  on  the  plank 
walk  in  front  of  the  store,  a  touch  of  color  in  his  yellow 
cheeks,  sniffing  eagerly  at  the  smell  of  the  pine  balsam. 
Gallatin  glanced  around  at  the  familiar  scene.  Nothing 
was  changed — the  canoes  drawn  up  along  the  bank,  the 
black  setter  dog,  the  Indian  packers  lounging  in  the  shade, 
the  smell  of  their  black  tobacco,  and  the  cool  welcome  of 
the  trader  who  came  out  of  the  store  to  greet  them. 

Joe  Keegon  and  another  Indian,  whose  name  turned 
out  to  be  Charlie  Knapp,  got  the  valises  out  of  the  wagon. 
Gallatin  offered  Joe  his  hand,  and  the  Indian  took  it 
with  the  steady-eyed  taciturnity  of  the  wilderness  peo- 
ple. Joe  was  no  waster  of  words  or  of  emotion.  He  led 
the  way  into  the  store  of  the  trader,  and  they  went  over 
the  outfit  together — blankets,  ammunition,  tea,  pork,  flour, 
tents,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  while  John  Kenyon  sat  on  a 
flour  barrel,  swinging  his  legs,  smoking  a  corncob  pipe  and 
listening. 

That  night,  after  Phil  had  turned  in,  he  sent  a  letter 
and  a  telegram  to  a  Canadian  address  and  gave  them  to 
the  teamster  with  some  money.  Then  he,  too,  went  to  bed 
• — dreaming  of  Arcadia. 

They   had  been  in   the  woods   for  three  weeks   now. 
343 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


They  weren't  traveling  as  light  as  Phil  had  done  the  year 
before  and  the  outfit  included  two  canoes,  well  loaded. 
So  they  went  slowly  northward  by  easy  stages,  fishing  the 
small  streams  and  camping  early.  Gallatin  had  at  first 
been  in  some  doubt  as  to  his  partner's  physical  fitness  for 
severe  work,  but  he  soon  found  that  he  need  have  given 
himself  no  concern,  for  with  every  day  a  year  seemed  to 
be  slipping  away  from  John  Kenyon,  who  insisted  on  tak- 
ing his  share  of  the  burdens  with  a  will  that  set  Phil  Gal- 
latin's  mind  at  rest.  And  as  they  went  farther  into  the 
wilderness,  they  made  almost  camp  for  camp  the  ones 
that  Phil  had  made  the  year  before.  John  Kenyon  had 
hoped  that  Phil  would  take  him  into  the  Kawagama  coun- 
try. He  wanted  very  much  to  see  that  waterfall  on  the 
south  fork  of  the  Birch  River  that  Phil  had  spoken  of. 
Kenyon  had  an  eye  for  the  beautiful. 

For  some  time  he  had  been  wondering  what  course  of 
action  he  would  take  if  Phil  refused  to  fall  in  with  his 
plans,  and  had  already  begun  to  think  that  it  was  time 
to  take  Joe  into  his  confidence;  but  he  soon  found  that 
subterfuge  was  unnecessary,  for  Gallatin  was  directing 
their  course  with  an  unerring  definiteness  to  his  own 
farthest  camp  among  the  hills.  John  Kenyon  guessed 
something  of  what  was  passing  in  the  mind  of  the  younger 
man,  and  over  the  camp-fire  watched  him  furtively.  The 
sun  and  wind  had  tanned  him  and  the  vigorous  exercise 
had  brought  an  appetite  that  had  filled  the  hollows  of  his 
cheeks ;  but  in  spite  of  the  glow  of  health  and  youth  and 
the  delight  of  their  old  friendship,  a  shadow  still  hung 
in  Phil  Gallatin's  eyes,  which  even  the  joy  of  the  present 
could  not  dispel.  Kenyon  smoked  quietly  and  asked  sub- 
tle questions  about  their  further  pilgrimage. 

"  To-morrow  we'll  reach  the  permanent  camp,  eh, 
Joe?  "  said  Gallatin. 

344 


THE   LODESTAR 


Keegon  nodded. 

"  We'll  stay  there  for  a  while — fish  and  explore." 

As  the  time  approached  for  his  denouement,  Ken- 
yon  had  a  guilty  sense  of  intrusion  which  tempered  his 
delight  in  the  possible  success  of  the  venture.  But  he  re- 
membered that  he  had  had  little  to  do  in  shaping  the 
course  of  events  or  the  direction  of  their  voyage,  except 
to  modify  the  speed  of  their  journeys  so  that  Phil  might 
reach  the  spot  intended  at  the  appointed  time.  Phil 
seemed  drawn  forward  as  though  by  a  lodestar  to  his 
destination,  as  though  some  force  greater  than  his  own 
will  was  impelling  him. 

Kenyon  had  taken  pains  to  keep  a  record  by  the  cal- 
endar. It  was  the  twenty-eighth  of  June.  The  next  day 
Kenyon  changed  places  with  Phil  and  went  in  Joe's  canoe, 
when  he  took  the  old  Indian  into  his  confidence, 

"  We  will  camp  to-night.  To-morrow  Phi]  will  -want 
to  go  fishing  alone.  You  must  keep  him  in  camp  until  the 
next  day.  Then  you  must  go  with  him  in  the  morning, 
and  lead  him  to  the  camp  in  the  hills  where  the  deer  was 
killed.  Comprenez? " 

Joe  had  learned  to  understand  this  grave,  quiet  man 
from  the  city,  who  did  his  share  of  the  work  and  who 
never  complained,  and  he  recognized,  by  its  contrast  to 
this  docility  and  willingness,  the  sudden  voice  of  author- 
ity. He  nodded. 

"  A'right,"  he  said,  with  a  nod.    "  I  take  heem." 

Joe's  loquacity  was  flattering.  It  was  the  first  time 
on  their  pilgrimage  that  Kenyon  had  heard  Joe  utter 
more  than  one  word  at  a  time. 

The  woods  had  seemed  so  vast,  so  interminable  that 
Kenyon  had  often  wondered  whether  it  would  be  possible 
to  find  a  spot  so  lacking  in  identity  as  the  one  they  were 
seeking.  But  Joe's  nod  and  smile  completely  reassured 

345 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


him.  In  his  unfamiliarity  with  the  wilderness  he  had  for- 
gotten that  here  was  Joe  Keegon's  city,  its  trails,  portages 
and  streams  as  clearly  mapped  in  his  mind  as  the  streets 
of  John  Kenyon's  New  York.  The  Indian  would  find  the 
place  where  the  deer  was  killed.  Kenyon  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief.  The  wheel  of  Destiny  was  spinning  now  and 
Kenyon  had  nothing  to  do  but  sit  and  watch.  He  had 
done  his  share. 

That  night  there  was  much  to  do,  but  Keegon  seemed 
in  no  hurry.  When  Gallatin,  who  seemed  tireless  was  for 
making  a  permanent  camp  at  once,  Joe  shook  his  head 
and  went  on  cleaning  fish. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said. 

When  the  morrow  came,  Gallatin  was  off  in  the  un- 
derbrush hunting  firewood  before  the  others  were  awake. 
From  his  place  by  the  fire  Joe  watched  him  lazily. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  get  to  work,  Joe?  " 

"  Soon,"  the  Indian  grunted,  but  made  no  movement 
to  get  up. 

"I  want  to  fish." 

"  To-morrow." 

"Why  not  to-day?" 

"  Make  camp." 

"  It  won't  take  all  day  to  make  camp." 

"  Rest,"  said  Joe.  And  that  was  all  that  Gallatin 
could  get  out  of  him,  so  he  said  no  more,  for  he  knew  by 
experience  that  when  Joe's  mind  had  decided  a  ques- 
tion of  policy,  mere  words  made  no  impression  on  him. 

John  Kenyon  listened  from  the  flap  of  the  tent,  with 
a  sleepy  eye  on  the  rising  sun. 

"  Don't  try  to  combat  the  forces  of  nature,  my  son," 
he  laughed.  "  Joe's  right !  I  for  one  am  going  to  take 
things  easy."  And  he  rolled  himself  in  his  blanket,  sank 
back  on  his  balsam  couch  and  closed  his  eyes  again. 

346 


THE   LODESTAR 


There  was  nothing  for  Phil  but  to  bow  to  the  in- 
evitable. That  day  he  worked  harder  even  than  the 
guides  and  it  seemed  to  John  Kenyon  that  some  inward 
force  was  driving  him  at  the  top  of  his  bent.  He  spoke 
little,  laughed  not  at  all  and  late  in  the  afternoon  went 
off  upstream  alone  with  his  rod  and  creel,  returning  later 
gloomy  and  morose. 

"  No  fish,"  said  Joe,  looking  at  the  empty  creel. 
"  Fish  to-morrow !  " 

Joe  actually  smiled  and  Gallatin  laughed  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"  Beeg  fish — to-morrow,"  repeated  Joe.  "  I  show — 
urn." 

The  next  day  Kenyon  stayed  in  camp  with  Charlie 
Knapp,  and  watched  Phil's  departure  upstream.  Joe 
had  full  instructions  and  as  he  followed  Gallatin's  broad 
shoulders  into  the  brush  he  turned  toward  the  fire  and 
nodded  to  Kenyon.  There  was  a  pact  between  them  and 
Kenyon  understood. 

The  sun  was  high  before  Joe  left  the  stream  and  cut 
into  the  underbrush.  His  employer  hadn't  even  taken  his 
rod  from  its  case,  and  his  creel  was  empty.  Early  in  the 
morning  he  had  asked  his  guide  to  take  him  to  the  little 
stream  where  the  deer  was  killed,  and  he  followed  the  swift 
noiseless  steps  of  the  old  Indian,  his  shoulders  bent,  his 
eyes  peering  through  the  thicket  in  search  of  landmarks. 
It  was  midday  before  the  two  men  reached  the  familiar 
water  and  Phil  identified  the  two  bowlders  above  his  old 
camping-place.  Here  Keegon  halted,  eying  the  pool 
below. 

«  Fish,"  said  he. 

Gallatin  fingered  at  the  fastenings  of  his  rod  case, 
looking  downstream,  while  Joe  sat  on  a  rock  and  munched 
a  biscuit. 

347 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  I'm  going  downstream,  Joe.     You  follow." 

The  Indian  nodded  and  Gallatin  moved  down  among 
the  rocks  in  the  bed  of  the  stream.  Pools  invited  him, 
but  he  did  not  fish.  He  had  not  even  jointed  his  rod. 
He  was  moving  rapidly  now,  like  a  man  with  a  mission,  a 
mission  with  which  fishing  had  nothing  in  common,  splash- 
ing through  the  shallow  water,  jumping  from  rock  to 
rock,  or  where  the  going  was  good  along  the  shore, 
through  the  underbrush.  There  was  a  trail  to  follow 
now,  a  faint  trail  scarcely  defined,  but  in  which  he  saw 
the  faint  marks  of  last  year's  footprints.  His  own  they 
must  be,  heavy  from  the  weight  of  the  deer  he  had  car- 
ried through  the  imlB  and  wet.  They  were  the  symbols 
of  his  regeneration.  Since  then  he  had  brought  other 
burdens  to  camp  and  had  thrown  them  at  her  feet,  for 
what  ? 

Later  on,  in  a  moist  spot,  he  stopped  and  peered  at  the 
ground  curiously.  Other  footprints  had  emerged  from 
somewhere  and  joined  his  own,  fresh  footprints,  one  made 
by  the  in-turned  toe  of  an  Indian,  the  other  smaller,  the 
heel  of  which  cut  deep  into  the  mud  and  moss.  He  bent 
forward  following  them  eagerly.  What  could  a  woman 
be  doing  here? 

Suddenly  Gallatin  straightened  and  sniffed  the  air. 
The  smoke  of  a  camp  fire!  The  smell  of  cooking  fish! 
Some  one  had  preceded  him.  He  moved  forward  cau- 
tiously, his  heart  beating  with  suppressed  excitement,  his 
mind  for  the  first  time  aware  that  unusual  impulses  had 
dominated  him  all  the  morning.  He  also  knew  that  the 
smell  of  those  cooking  fish  was  delicious. 

In  a  moment  he  recognized  the  glade,  the  two  beech 
trees  and  the  rock,  saw  the  bulk  of  the  shack  that  he 
had  built,  the  glow  of  the  fire  and  a  small  figure  sitting 
on  a  log  before  it,  cooking  fish  on  a  spit.  He  stopped 

348 


THE   LODESTAR 


and  passed  a  hand  before  his  eyes.  Had  a  year  passed? 
Or  was  it — yesterday?  Who  was  the  girl  that  sat  famil- 
iarly at  his  fire,  hatless,  her  brown  hair  tawny  in  the 
sunlight,  her  slender  neck  bent  forward? 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  peered  again.     There  was  no 
mistake.     It  was  Jane. 


XXIX 

ARCADIA   AGAIN 

SHE  did  not  move  at  his  approach,  although  his  foot- 
steps among  the  dried  leaves  must  have  been  plainly 
audible,  and  he  was  within  ten  feet  of  the  fire  before 
she  turned. 

"  We  had  better  be  going  soon,  Challon,"  she  began 
and  then  stopped,  as  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  at 
him.  He  wore  his  old  fishing  hat  with  the  holes  in  it,  a 
faded  blue  flannel  shirt,  corduroys  and  laced  boots;  and 
as  her  eye  passed  quickly  over  his  figure  to  his  face,  she 
paled,  started  backward  and  stared  with  a  terror  in  her 
eyes  of  something  beyond  comprehension.  He  saw  her 
put  her  arm  before  her  face  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  him 
and  rise  to  one  knee,  stumbling  blindly  away,  when  he 
caught  her  in  his  arms,  whispering  madly: 

"  Jane !  Jane !  Don't  turn  away  from  me.  It's  Phil, 
do  you  hear?  Myself — no  other.  You  were  waiting  for 
me — and  I  came  to  you." 

She  trembled  violently  and  her  hand  clutched  his  arm 
as  though  to  assure  herself  of  its  reality. 

"  Jane,  look  up  at  me.  Look  in  my  eyes  and  you'll 
see  your  vision  there — where  it  has  always  been,  and 
always  will  be — unchangeable.  Look  at  me,  Jane." 

Slowly  she  raised  her  head  and  saw  that  what  he  said 
was  true,  the  pallor  of  dismay  retreating  before  the  warm 
flush  that  suffused  her  from  neck  to  brow. 

"  It's — you,  Phil?     I  can't  understand " 

"  Nor  I.  I  don't  know  or  care — so  long  as  you  are 
350 


ARCADIA   AGAIN 


here — close  in  my  arms.    I'll  never  let  you  go  again.    Kiss 
me,  Jane." 

She  obeyed;,  blindly,  passionately,  the  wonder  in  her 
eyes  dying  in  heavenly  content. 

"  You  came  to  me,  Phil,"  she  whispered.  "  How? 
Why?" 

"  Because  you  wanted  me,  because  you  were  waiting 
for  me.  Isn't  it  so?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  waiting  for  you.     I  came  here  because 
I  couldn't  stay  away.     I — I  don't  know  why  I  came — ' 
She  paused   and  her  hands   tightened   on   his    shoulders 
again.     "  Oh,  Phil,"  she  cried  again,  "  there's  no  mis- 
take? " 

"  No— no." 

"  You  frightened  me  so.  I  thought  you  were — unreal 
— a  vision — your  hat,  your  clothes  are  the  same.  I 
thought  you  were — the  ghost  of  happiness." 

He  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  There  are  no  ghosts,  Jane,  dear.  Not  even  those  of 
unhappiness,"  he  murmured.  "  There  is  no  room  for 
anything  in  the  world  but  hope  and  joy — and  love — 
yours  and  mine.  I  love  you,  dearest.  Even  when  reason 
despaired,  I  loved  you  most  and  loved  the  pain  of  it." 

"  The  pain  of  it— I  know." 

She  was  sobbing  now,  her  slender  body  quivering  under 
his  caress. 

"  Don't,  Jane,"  he  whispered.    "  Don't  cry.    Don't !  " 

But  she  smiled  up  at  him  through  her  tears. 

"  Let  me,  Phil,  I — I'm  so  happy." 

He  soothed  her  gently  and  held  her  close  in  his  arms, 
her  head  against  his  breast,  as  he  would  have  held  that 
of  a  tired  child.  After  a  time  she  relaxed  and  lay  quiet. 

"You're  glad?"  he  asked. 

There  was  no  reply. 

351 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"Are  you  glad?"  he  repeated. 

"Glad!     Oh,  Phil,  I've  suffered  so." 

"Oh,  Jane,  why?  Look  at  me,  dear.  It  was  all  a 
mistake.  How  could  you  have  misjudged  me?  " 

She  drew  away  from  him  and  took  his  head  between 
the  palms  of  her  hands  and  sought  his  eyes  with  her  own. 

"  There  was  no  other?  "  she  asked  haltingly. 

"  No — a  thousand  times  no,"  he  returned  her  gaze 
eagerly.  "  How  could  there  be  any  other  ?  "  he  asked 
simply. 

She  looked  long  and  then  closed  her  eyes  and  drew  his 
lips  down  to  hers. 

"  You  believe  in  me — now?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  her  eyes  still  closed.  "  I  be- 
lieve in  you.  Even  if  I  didn't,  I  would  still — still — adore 
you." 

"  God  bless  you  for  that.    But  you  do  believe "  he 

persisted. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  do  believe  in  you,  Phil.  I  can't  doubt 
you  when  you  look  at  me  like  that." 

"  Then  I'll  never  look  away  from  you." 

"  Don't  look  away.  Those  eyes !  How  they've  haunt- 
ed me.  The  shadows  in  them!  There  are  no  shadows 
now,  Phil.  They're  laughing  at  me,  at  my  feminine  weak- 
ness, convinced  against  itself.  I  thought  you  were  a 
ghost."  She  held  him  away  and  looked  at  him.  "  But 
you're  not  in  the  least  ghostlike.  You're  looking  very 
well.  I  don't  believe  you've  worried." 

"  Nor  you.  I've  never  seen  you  looking  handsomer. 
It's  hardly  flattering  to  my  vanity." 

She  sighed. 

"  I've  lived  in  Arcadia  for  three  weeks." 

He  led  her  over  to  the  log  beside  the  shack  and  sat 
beside  her. 

352 


ARCADIA    AGAIN 


"  Tell  me,"  he  said  at  last,  "  how  you  came  to  be 
here — alone." 

She  straightened  quickly  and  peered  around. 

"  But  I'm  not  alone — my  guide — he  went  into  the 
brush  for  firewood." 

"Curious!" 

"  He  should  be  back  by  noAv." 

"  I  hope  he  doesn't  come  back." 

"  Oh,  Phil,  so  do  I— but  he  will.     And  you?  " 

"  My  guide,  Joe  Keegon,  is  there,"  and  he  pointed  up- 
stream. 

A  shade  passed  over  her  face. 

"  But  we'll  send  them  away,  Jane,  back  where  they 
came  from.  We  need  no  guides  now,  you  and  I,  no 
guides  but  our  hearts,  no  servants  but  our  hands.  We'll 
begin  again — where  we  left  off — yesterday." 

She  crouched  closer  in  his  arms. 

"  Yesterday.  Yes,  it  was  only  yesterday  that  we  were 
here,"  she  sighed.  "  But  the  long  night  between !  " 

"  A  dream,  Jane,  a  dream — a  phantom  unhappiness 
— only  this  is  real." 

"Are  you  sure?     I'm  afraid  I'll  awaken." 

"  No,"  he  laughed.  "  See,  the  fire  is  just  as  we  left 
it  last  night ;  the  black  log  charred,  the  shack,  your  bed, 
the  two  birch  trees  and  your  ridgepole." 

"  Yes,"  she  smiled. 

"  The  two  creels  and  the  cooking  fish " 

"  Oh,  those  fish !    My  fish  are  all  in  the  fire." 

"  Do  you  care  ?  " 

"  No — I'll  let  them  burn.  But  you'll  be  good  to  me, 
won't  you,  Phil?  " 

There  was  another  long  pause.  About  them  the  or- 
chestral stillness  of  the  deep  woods,  amid  which  they  lived 
a  moment  of  immortality,  all  thought,  all  speech  inade- 

353 


quate  to  their  sweet  communion.  A  venturesome  sparrow 
perched  itself  upon  Jane's  ridgepole,  and  after  putting 
it's  head  on  one  side  in  inquiry  uttered  a  low  and  joyful 
chirp,  and  failing  to  attract  attention  flew  away  to  tell 
the  gossip  to  its  mate.  The  breeze  crooned,  the  stream 
sighed  and  the  sunlight  kissed  the  cardinal  flowers,  which 
lifted  their  heads  for  its  caress.  All  Nature  breathed  con- 
tentment, peace  and  consummation. 

But  there  was  much  to  be  said,  much  mystery  to  be 
revealed,  and  it  was  Jane  who  first  spoke.  She  drew 
away  from  him  gently  and  looked  out  into  the  under- 
brush. 

"  Phil !  Those  guides,"  she  whispered.  "  They  may 
have  seen." 

"  Let  them.    I  don't  care.    Do  you?  " 

"  Ye-s.  Let  me  think.  I  can't  understand.  Why 
hasn't  Challon  come  back?  He  was  here  a  minute  ago — 
or  was  it  an  hour?  I  don't  know."  Her  fingers  strug- 
gled with  the  disorder  of  her  hair  as  she  smiled  at  him. 

"  Challon  is  a  myth.  I  don't  believe  you  had  a 
guide." 

"  A  myth,  indeed !  I  wish  he  was — now.  I  wantecT 
to  go  out  alone,  but  father  wouldn't  let  me " 

"Mr.  Loring!"  Gallatin  started  up.  "Oh,  of 
course !  "  he  sighed.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  there  were 
such  things  as  fathers." 

"  But  there  are — there  is — "  she  laughed,  "  a  per- 
fectly substantial  father  within  ten  miles  from  here." 

"  You're  in  camp  again — in  the  same  spot  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Any  one  else?  "  he  frowned.    "  Not  Mr.  Van  Duyn." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no.     Coley  has  gone  to  Carlsbad." 

He  took  her  by  the  hand  again.  "  You  sent  him 
away?  " 

354, 


ARCADIA    AGAIN 


"  Yes." 

"When?" 

"  After  '  Ciovelly.'  Oh,  Phil,  you  hurt  me  so.  But 
I  couldn't  stand  seeing  him  after  that." 

"Why?" 

"  Because,  cruel  as  you  were,  I  knew  that  you  were 
right  and  that  I  was  wrong.  I  hated  you  that  night — 
hated  you  because  you  made  me  such  a  pitiful  thing; 
jbut —  Oh,  I  loved  you,  too,  more  than  ever.  If  only 
you  hadn't  been  so  hard — so  bitter.  If  you  had  been 
gentle  then,  you  might  have  taken  me  in  your  arms  and 
crushed  me  if  you  liked.  I  shouldn't  have  cared." 

"  Sh — that  was  only  in  the  dream,  Jane."  And  then : 
'*  You  never  cared  for  him?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"  Never." 

"  Then  why ?  " 

"  My  pride,  Phil.     Poor  Coley !  " 

He  echoed  the  words  heartlessly. 

"  Poor  Coley !  " 

A  pause.    "  Who  else  is  in  camp  ?  " 

"  Colonel  Broadhurst,  Mr.  Worthington,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Pennington " 

"Nellie!    Here?" 

"  Yes,  she  had  never  been  in  the  woods  before.  Why, 
what  is  the  matter,  Phil?  " 

Gallatin  straightened,  one  hand  to  his  forehead. 

"  I  have  it,"  he  said. 

"Have  what?" 

"  It  was  Nellie.    I  might  have  guessed  it." 

"  Guessed ?  " 

"  It  was  her  plan — coming  up  here — to  the  woods. 
Before  we  left  New  York  she  and  John  Kenyon  were  as 
thick  as  thieves — and " 

"Oh!" 

355 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Good  old  Uncle  John !  He  did  it.  I  remember  now 
— a  hundred  things." 

It  was  Jane's  turn  to  be  surprised. 

"  Yes — yes.  It's  true,  Phil.  Oh,  how  cleverly  they 
managed !  But  how  could  Nellie  have  known  that  I  would 
come  here?  I  only  told  Johnny  Challon." 

Phil  laughed. 

"  Nellie  Pennington  is  a  remarkable  woman.  She 
knew.  She  knows  everything." 

"  Yes,  I  think  she  does,"  said  Jane.  "  We've  been  in 
camp  a  week.  I  started  with  Challon  four  days  ago.  He 
said  he  had  lost  the  trail,  and  I  gave  it  up.  This  morn- 
ing— I  can  see  it  all  now.  Father — and  Nellie  started 
me  off  themselves  at  sunrise.  They  knew  I'd  come  here 
and " 

She  stopped  and  took  him  abruptly  by  the  arm. 
**  Phil !  Those  wicked  people  had  even  fixed  the  day  and 
hour  of  our  meeting." 

He  nodded. 

"  Of  course !  I  wanted  to  come  yesterday,  but  they 
wouldn't  let  me.  If  I  had — I  should  have  missed  you." 

"  Oh— how  terrible !  " 

Her  accents  were  so  genuine,  her  face  so  distressed  at 
this  possibility,  that  he  laughed  and  caught  her  in  his 
arms  again. 

"  But  I  didn't  miss  you,  Jane.  That's  the  point. 
Even  if  I  had,  Nellie  would  have  managed  somehow. 
She's  an  extraordinary  woman." 

"  She  is,  Phil.  She  chaperoned  me  until  Coley  was  at 
the  point  of  exasperation." 

"  Quite  right  of  her,  too." 

"  But  why  has  she  taken  such  an  interest  in  you — 
in  us?" 

"  Because  she's  an  angel,  because  she  has  the  wisdom 

356 


ARCADIA   AGAIN 


of  the  centuries,  because  she  is  a  born  matchmaker,  be- 
cause she  always  does  what  she  makes  up  her  mind  to 
do,  and,  lastly — and  most  important,  Jane,  she  has  a 
proper  sense  of  the  eternal  fitness  of  things." 

"  That's  true.  Nothing  else  was  possible,  was  it, 
Phil?  " 

"  No.     It  was  written — a  thousand  years  ago." 

She  turned  in  his  -mas. 

"  Have  you  thought  that — always  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  never  gave  up  hoping." 

"  Nor  I." 

She  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  Phil." 

"What,  Jane?" 

"  Would  you  have  come  here  to  Arcadia,  alone,  even 


"  Yes.  I  would  have  come  here — alone.  I  was  plan- 
ning it  all  spring.  This  place  is  redolent  of  you.  Your 
spirit  has  haunted  it  for  a  year.  I  wanted  to  be  here 
to  share  it  with  Kee-way-din,  if  I  couldn't  have — your- 
self." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  if  I  had  not  been  here?  " 

"  I  don't  know — waited  for  you,  I  think." 

"  But  it  was  I — who  waited " 

"  You  didn't  wait  long.  What  were  you  thinking  of, 
there  by  the  fire?  " 

"  Of  my  dream." 

"  You  dreamed  of  me  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  night  we  came  into  camp  I  dreamed  of 
you.  I  saw  you  poling  a  canoe  upstream.  I  followed 
you  across  a  portage.  There  was  a  heavy  pack  upon 
your  back,  but  you  did  not  mind  the  weight,  for  your  step 
was  light  and  your  face  happy.  There  was  a  shadow  in 
your  eyes,  the  same  shadow,  but  your  lips  were  smiling. 

357 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


Night  fell  and  still  you  toiled  in  the  moonlight,  and  I 
knew  that  you  were  coining  here.  There  were  voices,  too, 
and  you  were  singing  with  them ;  but  I  wasn't  afraid,  be- 
cause you  seemed  so  joyful." 

"  I  was  joyful." 

"  I  saw  the  shack — and  the  ashes  of  the  fire  and  I 
saw  you  coming  through  the  bushes  toward  it.  But  when 
you  came  to  the  fire  I  was  not  there.  You  called  me,  but 
I  couldn't  answer.  I  tried  to,  but  I  seemed  to  be  dumb 
— and  then — and  that  was  all." 

"  A  dream.     It  was  all  true — except  the  last." 

"  That's  why  I  came.  I  wanted  to  be  here,  so  that 
if  you  did  come,  you  might  not  be  disappointed.  I  had 
failed  you  before.  I  did  not  want  it  to  happen  again. 
I  brought  Challon  to  show  me  the  way.  I  was  coming 
here  again — and  again — until  you  found  me." 

He  raised  her  chin  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"  Dream  again,  dear." 

"  I'm  dreaming  now,"  she  sighed.  "  It  is  so  sweet. 
Don't  .let  me  wake,  Phil.  It — it  mightn't  be  true." 

"  Yes,  it's  true,  all  true.    You'll  marry  me,  Jane?  " 

"  Whenever  you  ask  me  to." 

He  looked  away  from  her  down  the  stream  where  the 
sunlight  danced  in  the  open. 

"  I  told  you  once  that  I  would  come  for  you  some 
day — when  I  had  conquered  myself,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  when  I  had  made  a  place  among  the  useful  men  of  the 
world,  when  I  could  look  my  Enemy  in  the  eye — for  a 
long  while  and  not  be  defeated — to  stare  him  down  until 
he  stole  away — far  off  where  I  wouldn't  ever  find  him." 

"  Yes." 

"  He  has  gone,  Jane.  He  does  not  trouble  me  and 
will  not,  I  know.  It  was  a  long  battle,  a  silent  battle 

358 


ARCADIA    AGAIN 


between  us,  but  I've  won.     And  I'm  ready  to  take  you, 
Jane." 

"  Take  me,  then." 
Her  lips  were  already  his. 

"  You  could  have  had  me  before,  Phil,"  she  murmured. 
"  I  would  have  fought  the  Enemy  with  you  •  he  was  my 
Enemy,  too,  but  you  would  not  have  me." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  then.  It  was  my  own  fight — not  yours.  And 
yet  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  perhaps  I  shouldn't  have 
fought  at  all." 

She  drew  away  from  him  a  little. 

"  No — I  didn't  help  you.  I  only  made  it  harder.  I'll 
regret  that  always.  It  was  your  own  victory — against 
odds." 

He  smiled. 

"  What  does  it  matter  now.  I  had  to  win — not  that 
battle  alone — but  others." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  smiled.  "  Father  is  mad  about 
you." 

Gallatin  threw  up  his  chin  and  laughed  to  the  sky. 

"  He  ought  to  be.     I'd  be  mad,  too,  in  his  place." 

His  joy  was  infectious,  and  she  smiled  at  him  fondly. 

"  You're  a  very  wonderful  person,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  How  could  a  demigod  be  anything  else  but  won- 
'derful?  You  created  me.  Aren't  you  pleased  with  your 
handiwork?  " 

"  Immensely." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  then  whispered  into  her 
ear. 

"  You'll  marry  me — soon?  " 

"  Yes." 

"When?" 

359 


THE   SILENT   BATTLE 


"  Whenever  you  want  me,  Phil." 

"This  summer!     They  shall  leave  us  here!"  he  said. 

She  colored  divinely. 

"  Oh !  " 

"  It  can  be  managed." 

"  A  wedding  in  the  woods !     Oh,  Phil !  " 

"Why  not?     I'll  see " 

But  she  put  her  fingers  over  his  lips  and  would  not 
listen  to  him. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  he  insisted,  capturing  her  hands,  "  it 
shall  be  here.  All  this  is  ours — our  forest,  our  stream,  our 
sunlight,  yours  and  mine,  our  kingdom.  Would  you 
change  a  kingdom  for  a  villa  or  a  fashionable  hotel?  " 

"  No,  no,"  she  whispered. 

"  We  will  begin  life  together  here — where  love  began 
— alone.  You  shall  cook  and  I  shall  kill  for  you,  and 
build  with  my  own  hands  another  shack,  a  larger  one  with 
two  windows  and  a  door — a  wonderful  shack  with  chairs, 
a  table " 

"  And  a  porcelain  bathtub  ?  " 

"  No — the  bath  is  down  the  corridor — to  the  right." 

She  had  used  it. 

"  It  will  do,"  she  smiled.    "  May  I  have  a  mirror?  " 

"  The  pool " 

Her  lips  twisted. 

"  I  tried  it  once,  and  fell  in.  A  mirror,  please,"  she 
insisted. 

"  Yes — a  mirror — then." 

"  And  a — a  small,  a  very  tiny  steamer  trunk?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  a  French  maid,  smelling  salts  and  a 
motor " 

"  Phil !    What  shall  I  cook  with?  " 

"  A  frying  pan  and  a  tin  coffeepot." 
360 


ARCADIA    AGAIN 


"  But  I  can  make  such  beautiful  muffins." 

"  I'll  build  an  oven." 

"  And  cake  --  " 

"  We'll  live  like  gods  -  " 

"  Demigods  -  " 

"  And  goddesses." 

It  was  sweet  nonsense  but  nobody  heard  it  but  them- 
selves. 

The  shadows  lengthened.  The  patches  of  light,  turned 
to  gold,  were  lifting  along  the  tree  trunks  when  from  the 
deeps  of  the  ancient  forest  below  them  there  came  three 
flutclike  notes  of  liquid  music  of  such  depth  and  richness 
that  they  sat  spellbound.  In  a  moment  they  heard  it 
again,  the  three  cadenced  notes  of  unearthly  beauty  and 
then  the  pause,  while  all  nature  held  its  breath  and  waited 
to  hear  again. 

"  The  hermit  thrush,"  he  whispered. 

"  Oh,  Phil.    It's  from  the  very  soul  of  things." 

«  Sh  -  " 

But  they  did  not  hear  it  again.  The  hermit  thrush, 
sings  seldom  and  then  only  to  those  who  belong  to  the 
Immortal  Brotherhood  of  the  Forest. 


(2) 


THE    EN* 


361 


The 


Underwood 


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"1  J 


UNDERWOOD    BUILDING      -       NEW  YORK. 


JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES.  OF  THE   KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

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THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME  PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yolin. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  -which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  p?ne  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-prints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD   OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
-whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT  OF  THE    CUMBERLAND. 
Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  f  eudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon- 
shiner's son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris- 
tened "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "  Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

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STORIES    OF    RARE    CHARM    BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 

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THE  HARVESTER 
Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs 

"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is 
a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  who  diuvt.* 
his  living  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mothe  c , 
Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in. 
it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man,  \vi  h 
his  sure  grip  on  life,  his  superb  optimism, 
and  his  almost  miraculous  knowledge  of 
nature  secrets,  it  would  be  notable.  But 
when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine 
Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  sound, 
healthy,  large  outdoor  being  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has 
come  to  him  — there  begins  a  romance, 
troubled  and  interrupted,  yet  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 

FRECKLES.       Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality;  and  his  love- 
story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST. 
Illustrated  by  Wladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  -woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  the 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 

It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  a  life  worth  while  and  the  rich  beauties 
of  the  out-of-doors  are  strewn  through  all  its  pages. 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 

Illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp.    Design  and  decorations  by 
Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour. 

The  scene  of  this  charming,  idyllic  love  story  is  laid  in  Central 
Indiana.  The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self- 
sacrificing  love;  the  friendship  that  gives  freely  without  return,  and 
the  love  that  seeks  first  the  happiness  of  the  object.  The  novel  is 
brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of  nature,  and  its  pathos 
and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 

STEWART    EDWARD  WHITE 


THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME.  Illustrated  by  Lajaren  A.  Killer 

The  romance  of  the  son  of  "The  Riverman."  The  young  college 
hero  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "graft"  and  comes 
into  the  romance  of  his  life. 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS.  Illus.  and  cover  inlay  by  N.  C.  Wyetb. 

A  series  of  spirited  tales  emphasizing  some  phases  of  the  life 
of  the  ranch,  plains  and  desert.    A  masterpiece. 
THE  BLAZED   TRAIL.  With  illustiations  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young 
man  who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  o£  the  Mich- 
igan pines. 
THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS.    A  Romance. 

The  tenderfoot  manager  of  a  mine  in  a  lonesome  gulch  of  the 
Black  Hills  has  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  "wins  out"  in  more  ways  than, 
one. 
CONJUROR'S     HOUSE.    Illustrated  Theatrical  Edition. 

Dramatized  under  the     title   of  "The   Call  of    the   North." 

"Conjuror's  House  is  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post  where  the 
head  factor  is  the  absolute  lord.    A  young  fellow  risked  his  life  and 
•won  a  bride  on  this  forbidden  land. 
THE  MAGIC  FOREST.    A  Modern  Fairy  Tale.    Illustrated. 

The  sympathetic  way  in  which  the  children  of  the  wild  and 
their  life  is  treated  could  only  belong  to  one  who  is  in  love  with  the 
forest  and  open  air.    Based  on  fact 
THE  RIVERMAN.    Illus.  by  N.  C."  Wyeth  and  C.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  fight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle 
between  honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  side,  and  dishonesty  and 
shrewdness  on  the  other. 
THE  SILENT  PLACES.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin. 

The  wonders  of  the  northern  forests,  the  heights  of  feminine 
devotion,  and  masculine  power,  the  intelligence  of  the  Caucasian 
and  the  instinct  of  the  Indian,  are  all  finely  drawn  in  this  story. 
THE  WESTERNERS. 

A  story  of  the  Black  Hills  that  is  justly  placed  among  the 
best  American  novels.  It  portrays  the  life  of  the  new  West  as  no 
other  book  has  done  in  recent  years. 

THE    MYSTERY.  In  collaboration  with  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams 
With  illustrations  by  Will  Crawford. 

The  disappearance  of  three  successive  crews  from  the  stont 
ship  "Laughing  Lass"  in  mid-Pacific,  is  a  mystery  weird  and  inscrut- 
able. In  the  solution,  there  is  a  story  of  the  most  exciting  voyage 
that  man  ever  undertook. 

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B.  M.  Bower's  Novels 

Thrilling  Western  Romances 

Large  12  mos.  Har/dsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Illustrated 

CHIP,  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

A  breezy  wholesome  tale,  wherein  the  love  affairs  of  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told.  Chip's 
jealousy  of  Dr.  Cecil  Grantham,  who  turns  out  to  be  a  big.  bine 
eyed  young  woman  is  very  amusing.  A  clever,  realistic  story  of 
the  American  Cow-puncher. 
THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 

A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with  the  adventures  of 
eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana,  cowboys.     Foremost  amongst 
them,  we  find  Ananias  Green,  known  as  Andy,  whose  imaginative 
powers  cause  many  lively  and  exciting  adventures. 
HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

A  realistic  story  of  the  plains,  describing  a  gay  party  of  Eas- 
terners who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  the  roiiph  homeli- 
ness of  a  Montana  ranch-house.  The  merry-hearted  cowboys,  the 
fascinating  Beatrice,  and  the  effusive  Sir  Redmond,  become  living, 
breathing  personalities. 
THE  RANGE  DWELLERS 

Here  are  everyday,  genuine  cowboys,  just  as  they  really  exist. 
Spirited  action,  a  range  feud  between  two  families,  and  a  Romeo 
and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright,  jolly,  entertaining  story, 
without  a  dull  page. 
THE    LURE  OF  DIM  TRAILS 

A  vivid  portrayal  of  the  experience  of  an  Eastern  author, 
among  the  cowboys  of  the  West,  in  search  of  "local  color"  for  a 
new  novel.  "Bud' '  Thurston  learns  many  a  lesson  while  following 
"the  iure  of  the  dim  trails"  but  the  hardest,  and  probably  the  most 
welcome,  is  that  of  love. 
THE  LONESOME  TRAIL 

"Weary"  Davidson  leaves  the  ranch  for  Portland,  where  con- 
ventional city  life  palls  on  him.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush. 
pungent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  prairie,  and  the  recollection  of 
a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  soon  compel  his  return.  A  whcle^om^ 
Jove  story, 

THE  LONG  SHADOW 

A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  with*  the  free,  tdoor, 
life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  Its  scenes  shift  rarjidly  and  its  actors  play 
the  game  of  life  fearlessly  and  like  men.  It  is  a  fine  love  story  from 
start  to  finish. 

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TITLES   SELECTED   FROM 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAFS  LIST 

RE-ISSUES  OF  THE  GREAT  LITERARY  SUCCESSES  OF  THE  TIME 
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BEN    HUR.    A  Tale  of  the  Christ.    By  General  Lew  Wallace 

This  famous  Religious-Historical  Romance  with  its  mighty  story, 
brilliant  pageantry,  thrilling  action  and  deep  religious  reverence, 
hardly  requires  an  outline.  The  whole  world  has  placed  "Ben-Hur" 
on  a  height  of  pre-eminence  which  no  other  novel  of  its  time  has 
reached.  The  clashing  of  rivalry  and  the  deepest  human  passions, 
the  perfect  reproduction  of  brilliant  Roman  life,  and  the  tense,  fierce 
atmosphere  of  the  arena  have  kept  their  deep  fascination. 

THE    PRINCE  OE  INDIA.    By  General  Lew  Wallace 

A  glowing  romance  of  the.  Byzantine  Empire,  showing,  with  vivid 
imagination,  the  possible  forces  behind  the  internal  decay  of  the  Em- 
pire that  hastened  the  fall  of  Constantinople. 

The  foreground  figure  is  the  person  known  to  all  as  the  Wan- 
dering Jew,  at  this  time  appearing  as  the  Prince  of  India,  with  vast 
stores  of  wealth,  and  is  supposed  to  have  instigated  many  wars  and 
fomented  the  Crusades. 

Mohammed's  love  for  the  Princess  Irene  is  beautifully  wrought 
into  the  story,  and  the  book  as  a  whole  is  a  marvelous  work  both 
historically  and  romantically. 

THE  FAIR  GOD.  By  General  Lew  Wallace.  A  Tale  of  the 
Conquest  of  Mexico.  With  Eight  Illustrations  by  Eric  Pape. 

All  the  annals  of  conquest  have  nothing  more  brilliantly  daring 
and  dramatic  than  the  drama  played  in  Mexico  by  Cortes.  As  a 
dazzling  picture  of  Mexico  and  the  Montezumas  it  leaves  nothing  to 
be  desired. 

The  artist  has  caught  with  rare  enthusiasm  the  spirit  of  the 
Spanish  conquerors  of  Mexico,  its  beauty  and  glory  and  romance. 

TARRY  THOU  TILL  I  COME  or,  Salathiel,  the  Wandering 
Jew.  By  George  Croly.  With  twenty  illustrations  by  T.  de  Thulstrup 

A  historical  novel,  dealing  with  the  momentous  events  that  oc- 
curred, chiefly  in  Palestine,  from  the  time  of  the  Crucifixion  to  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem. 

The  book,  as  a  story,  is  replete  with  Oriental  charm  and  richness, 
and  the  character  drawing  is  marvelous.  No  other  novel  ever  written 
has  portrayed  with  such  vividness  the  events  that  convulsed  Rome 
and  destroyed  Jerusalem  in  the  early  days  of  Christanity. 

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STORIES    OF    WESTERN    LIFE 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  soisl.      Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE,    ByZaneGrey. 
Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

In  this  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago,  we 
are  permitted  to  see  the  unscrupulous  methods  employed  by  the  in- 
visible hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  the  will  of  those  refus- 
ing to  conform  to  its  rule. 

FRIAR  TUCK,    By  Robert  Alexander  Wason, 
Illustrated  by  Stanley  L.  Wood. 

Happy  Hawkins  tells  us,  in  his  humorous  way,  how  Friar  Tuck 
lived  among  the  Cowboys,  how  he  adjusted  their  quarrels  and  love 
affairs  and  how  he  fought  with  them  and  for  them  when  occasion 
required, 

THE   SKY  PILOT,    By  Ralph  Connor. 

Illustrated  by  Louis  Rnead. 

There  is  no  novel,  dealing:  with  the  rough  existence  cf  cowboys, 
so  charming  in  the  telling,  abounding  as  it  does  with  the  freshest  and 
the  truest  pathos. 

THE  EMIGRANT  TRAIL,    By  Geraldine  Bonner. 

Colored  frontispiece  by  John  Rae. 

The  book  relates  the  adventures  of  a  party  on  its  overland  pil- 
grimage, and  the  birth  and  growth  of  the  absorbing  love  of  two  strong 
men  for  a  charming  heroine. 

THE  BOSS  OF  V7IND  RIVER,    By  A.  M.  Chisholm. 

Illustrated  by  Frank  Tenney  Johnson. 

This  is  a  strong,  virile  novel  with  the  lumber  industry  for  its  cen- 
tral theme  and  a  love  story  full  of  interest  as  a  sort  of  subplot. 

A  PRAIRIE  COURTSHIP,    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

A  story  of  Canadian  prairies  in  which  the  hero  is  stirred,  through 
the  influence  of  his  iove  for  a  woman,  to  settle  down  to  the  heroic 
business  of  pioneer  farming. 

JOYCE  OF  THE  NORTH  WOODS,    By  Harriet  T.  Comstock. 

Illustrated  by  John  Cassel. 

A  story  of  the  deep  woods  that  shows  the  power  of  love  at  work 
among  its  primitive  dwellers.  It  is  a  tensely  moving  study  of  the 
human  heart  and  its  aspirations  that  unfolds  itself  through  thrilling 
situations  and  dramatic  developments. 

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AMELIA  E.  BARK'S  STORIES 

DELIGHTFUL    TALES    OF   OLD    NEW  YORK 
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THE  BOW  OF  ORANGE  RIBBON.    With  Frontispiece. 

This  exquisite  little  romance  opens  in  New  York  City  in  "the  ten-  \ 
der  grace"  of  a  May  day  long  past,  when  the  old  Dutch  families 
clustered  around  Bowling  Green.  It  is  the  beginning  of  the  romance 
of  Katherine,  a  young  Dutch  girl  who  has  sent,  as  a  love  token,  to  a 
young  English  officer,  the  bow  of  orange  ribbon  which  she  has  worn 
for  years  as  a  sacred  emblem  on  the  day  of  St.  Nicholas.  After  the 
bow  of  ribbon  Katherine's  heart  soon  nies.  Unlike  her  sister,  whose 
heart  has  found  a  safe  resting  place  among  her  own  people,  Katherine's 
heart  must  rove  from  home — must  know  to  the  utmost  all  that  life 
holds  of  both  joy  and  sorrow.  And  so  she  goes  beyond  the  seas,  leav- 
ing her  parents  as  desolate  as  were  Isaac  and  Rebecca  of  old. 

THE    MAID    OF   MAIDEN    LANE;       A  Love  Story.      With 
Illustrations  by  S.  M.  Arthur. 

A  sequel  to  "The  Bow  of  Orange  Ribbon."  The  time  is  the 
gracious  days  of  Seventeen-hundred  and  ninety-one,  when  "The 
Marseillaise"  was  sung  with  the  American  national  airs,  and  the 
spirit  affected  commerce,  politics  and  conversation.  In  the  midst  of 
this  period  the  romance  of  "The  Sweetest  Maid  in  Maiden  Lane"  un- 
folds. Its  chief  charm  lies  in  its  historic  and  local  color. 

SHPJILA  VEDDER.     Frontispiece  in  colors  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

A  love  story  set  in  the  Shetland  Islands. 

Among  the  simple,  homely  folk  who  dwelt  there  Jan  Vedder  was 
raised;  and  to  this  island  came  lovely  Sheila  Jarrow.  Jan  knew,  when 
first  he  beheld  her,  that  she  was  the  one  woman  in  all  the  world  for 
him,  and  to  the  winning  of  her  love  he  set  himself.  The  long  days  of 
summer  by  the  sea,  the  nights  under  the  marvelously  soft  radiance  of 
Shetland  moonlight  passed  in  love-making,  while  with  wonderment 
the  man  and  woman,  alien  in  traditions,  adjusted  themselves  to  each 
other.  And  the  day  came  when  Jan  and  Sheila  wed,  and  then  a 
sweeter  love  story  is  told. 

TRINITY  BELLS.      With  eight  Illustrations  by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

The  story  centers  around  the  life  of  little  Katryntje  Van  Clyffe, 
who,  on  her  return  home  from  a  fashionable  boarding  school,  faces 
poverty  and  heartache.  Stout  of  heart,  she  does  not  permit  herself 
io  become  discouraged  even  at  the  news  of  the  loss  of  her  father  and 
his  ship  "The  Golden  Victory."  The  story  of  Katryntje's  life  was 
interwoven  with  the  music  of  the  Trinity  Bells  which  eventually 
heralded  her  wedding  day. 

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CHARMING  BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS 

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WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE,    By  Jean  Webster. 
Illustrated  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been 
written.  It  is  bright,  whimsical  and  entertaining,  lifelike,  laughable 
and  thoroughly  human. 

JUST    PATTY,    By  Jean  Webster. 
Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea. 

Patty  is  full  of  the  joy  of  living,  fun-loving,  given  to  ingenious 
mischief  for  its  own  sake,  with  a  disregard  for  pretty  convention  which 
Is  an  unfailing  source  of  joy  to  her  fellows. 

THE  POOR  LITTLE  RICH  GIRL,    By  Eleanor  Gates. 
With  four  full  page  illustrations. 

This  story  relates  the  experience  of  one  of  those  unfortunate  chil- 
dren whose  early  days  are  passed  in  the  companionship  of  a  governess, 
seldom  seeing  either  parent,  and  famishing  for  natural  love  and  tender- 
ness. A  charming  play  as  dramatized  by  the  author. 

REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK    FARM.       By  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  studies  of  childhood — Rebecca's  artistic, 
unusual  and  quaintly  charming  qualities  stand  out  midst  a  circle  of 
austere  New  Englanders.  The  stage  version  is  making  a  phenominal 
dramatic  record. 

NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA,    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Additional  episodes  in  the  girlhood  of  this  delightful  heroine  that 
carry  Rebecca  through  various  stages  to  her  eighteenth  birthday. 

REBECCA  MARY,    By  Annie  Hamilton  Donnell. 
Illustrated  by  Elizabeth  Shippen  Green. 

This  author  possesses  the  rare  gift  of  portraying  all  the  grotesque 
little  joys  and  sorrows  and  scruples  of  this  very  small  girl  with  a  pa- 
thos that  is  peculiarly  genuine  and  appealing. 

EMMY  LOU;    Her  Book  and  Heart,    By  George  Madden  Martia 
Illustrated  by  Charles  Louis  Hinton. 

Emmy  Lou  is  irresistibly  lovable,  because  she  is  so  absolutely  real. 
She  is  just  a  bewitchingly  innocent,  hugable  little  maid.  The  book  is 
wonderfully  human. 

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GROSSET  &    DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED  NOVELS 

Original,  sincere  and  courageous — often  amusing — the 
kind  that  are  making  theatrical  history. 

MADAME  X.    By  Alexandra  Bisson  and  J.  W.  McCon- 
aughy.      Illustrated    with    scenes   from    the    play, 

A  beautiful  Parisienne  became  an  outcast  because  her  hus- 
band would  not  forgive  an  error  of  her  youth.  Her  love  for 
her  son  is  the  great  final  influence  in  her  career.  A  tremen- 
dous dramatic  success. 

THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens. 

AD  unconventional  English  woman  and  an  inscrutable 
stranger  meet  and  love  in  an  oasis  of  the  Sahara.  Staged 
this  season  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 

THE  PRINCE  OF  INDIA.    By  Lew.  Wallace. 

A  glowing  romance  of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  presenting 
with  extraordinary  power  the  siege  of  Constantinople,  and 
lighting  its  tragedy  with  the  warm  underglow  of  an  Oriental 
romance.  As  a  play  it  is  a  great  dramatic  spectacle, 

TESS  OF   THE    STORM    COUNTRY.     By  Grace 
Miller  White.    Illust.  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
A  girl  from  the  dregs  of  society,  loves  a  young  Cornell  Uni- 
versity student,  and  it  works  startling  changes  in  her  life  and 
the  lives  of  those  about  her.    The  dramatic  version  is  one  ot 
the  sensations  of  the  season. 

YOUNG    WALLINGFORD.     By  George    Randolph 
Chester.     Illust.  by  F.  R.  Gruger  and  Henry  Raleigh. 

A  series  of  clever  swindles  conducted  by  a  cheerful  young 
man,  each  of  which  is  just  on  the  safe  side  of  a  State's  prison 
offence.  As  "Get-Rich-Quick  Wallingtord,"  it  is  probably 
the  most  amusing  expose  of  money  manipulation  ever  seea 
on  the  stage. 

THE  INTRUSION  OF  JIMMY.    By  P.  G.  Wode- 

house.    Illustrations  by  Will  Grefe. 
Social  and  club  life  hi  London  and  New  York,  au  amateur 
burglary  adventure  and  a  love  story.    Dramatized  under  the 
title  of  "A  Gentleman  of  Leisure,"  it  furnishes  hours  of 
laughter  to  the  play-goers. 

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GROSSET&  DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED    NOVELS 

THE   KIND   THAT   ARE   MAKING   THEATRICAL   HISTORY 
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WITHIN  THE  LAW.     By  Bayard  Veiller  &  Marvin  Dana. 
Illustrated  by  Wm.  Charles  Cooke. 

This  is  a  novelization  of  the  immensely  successful  play  which  ran 
for  two  years  in  New  York  and  Chicago. 

The  plot  of  this  powerful  novel  is  of  a  young  -woman's  revenge 
directed  against  her  employer  who  allowed  her  to  be  sent  to  priso'n 
for  three  years  on  a  charge  of  theft,  of  svhich  she  was  innocent. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  MARY.     By  Robert  Carltoa  Brown, 
illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

This  is  a  narrative  of  a  young  and  innocent  country  girl  vrho  is 
Suddenly  thrown  into  the  very  heart  of  New  York,  "the  land  of  her 
dreams,"  where  she  is  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  temptations  and  dangers. 

The  story  of  Mary  is  being  told  in  moving  pictures  and  played  in 
theatres  all  over  the  world. 

THE  RETURN  OF  PETER  GRIMM.      By  David  Belasco. 
Illustrated  by  John  lUe, 

This  is  a  novelization  of  the  popular  play  in  which  David  \Var, 
field,  as  Old  Peter  Grimm,  scored  such  a  remarkable  success. 

The  story  is  spectacular   and  extremely   pathetic  but  withal, 
powerful,  both  as  a  book  and  as  a  play. 
THE  GARDEN  OF  ALLAH.    By  Robert  Hichens. ; 

This  novel  is  an  intense,  glowing  epic  of  the  great  desert,  sunlit 
barbaric,  with  its  marvelous  atmosphere  of  vastness  and  loneliness. 

It  is  a  book  of  rapturous  beauty,  vivid  in  word  painting.    The  plav 
has  been  sta^id  with  magnificent  cast  and  gorgeous  properties. 
BEN    HUR.    A  Tale  of  the  Christ.    By  General  Lew  Wallace. 

The  whole  world  has  placed  this  famous  Religious-Historical  Ro- 
mance on  a  height  of  pre*-eminence  which  no  other  novel  of  its  time 
jos  reached.  The  clashing  o£  rivalry  and  the  deepest  human  passions, 
the  perfect  reproduction  of  brilliant  Roman  life,  and  the  tense,  fierce 
at.nor;phere  c!:  the  arena  have  kept  their  deep  fascination.  A  tre- 
mendous dramatic  success. 

.BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.     By  George  Broadhurst  and  Arthol 
Hornblow.          Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

m  A  stupendous  arraignment  of  modern  marriage  which  has  created 
an  interest  on  the  stage  that  is  almost  unparalleled.  The  scenes  are  laid 
in  New  York,  and  deal  with  conditions  among  both  the  rich  and  poor. 

^ The  interest  of  the  story  turns  on  the  day-by-day  developmeivt3 
which  show  the  young  wife  the  price  she  has  paid. 

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THE    NOVELS    OF 

CLARA    LOUISE     BURNHAM 

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JEWEL;  A  Chapter  in  Her  Life. 
Illustrated  by  Maude  and  Genevieve  Cowles. 

A  sweet,  dainty  story,  breathing  the  doctrine  of  love  and  patience 
and  sweet  nature  and  cheerfulness. 

JEWEL'S   STORY  BOOK. 
Illustrated  by  Albert  Schmitt. 

A  sequel  to  "Jewel"  and  equally  enjoyable. 
CLEVER  BETSY. 
Illustrated  by  Rose  O'Neill. 

The  "Clever  Betsy"  was  a  boat — named  for  the  unyielding  spin- 
ster whom  the  captain  hoped  to  marry.  Through  the  two  Betsys  a 
clever  group  of  people  are  introduced  to  the  reader. 

SWEET  CLOVER:    A  Romance  of  the  White  City. 

A  story  of  Chicago  at  the  time  of  the  World's  Fair.  A  sweet  hu- 
man story  that  touches  the  heart. 

THE  OPENED  SHUTTERS. 
Frontispiece  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

A  summer  haunt  on  an  island  in  Casco  Bay  is  the  background 
for  this  romance.  A  beautiful  woman,  at  discord  with  life,  is  brought 
to  realize,  by  her  new  friends,  that  she  may  open  the  shutters  of  her 
soul  to  the  blessed  sunlight  of  joy  by  casting  aside  vanity  and  self 
love.  A  delicately  humorous  work  with  a  lofty  motive  underlying  it  aU. 

THE  RIGHT  PRINCESS. 

An  amusing  story,  opening  at  a  fashionable  Long  Island  resort, 
where  a  stately  Englishwoman  employs  a  forcible  New  England 
housekeeper  to  serve  in  her  interesting  home.  How  types  so  widely 
apart  react  on  each  other's  lives,  all  to  ultimate  good,  makes  a  story 
both  humorous  and  rich  in  sentiment. 

THE  LEAVEN  OF  LOVE. 

Frontispiece  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

At  a  Southern  California  resort  a  world-weary  woman,  young  and 
beautiful  but  disillusioned,  meets  a  girl  who  has  learned  the  art  of 
living — of  tasting  life  in  all  its  richness,  opulence  and  joy.  The  story 
hinges  upon  the  change  wrought  in  the  soul  of  the  blase  woman  by 
this  glimpse  into  a  cheery  life. 

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